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THE STUDENTS’ ASSOCIATION
EMERSON COLLEGE OE ORATORY
tofjosfe gruff kinblines;s> anb gentle fatberliness
babe enbeareb bint to eberpone in emersion. 3n
appreciation of bis constant SerbtceS anb totUing
response to tbe bemanbs mabe upon bim bp all
of us in bis cbosen task, toe bebicate tbis bolume
as a token of esteem to
®fjt (Emersonian Poarii
Editor-i n-C hief
Jessie Isabelle Dalton
Martha Lela Carey
Minnie Bell Frazine
Amelia Myel Green
Associate Art Editors
Riiea Evalynn Ashley
J. Ethelwyn Cunningham
Clara M. Theisen
College Events 110
Emerson College Magazine ... 85
Junior Week 83-84
Lectures and Recitals 82
Ninteen Hundred and Thirteen . . 30-53
Officers of the College and Faculty 9-29
tobo babe fielpeb us, bp gibing expression to our un=
bebelopeb potentialitiesi, to ftnb our true SelbeS anb in
tf )t finbtng, to fit ourselbes to carrp on tfjcir bital
toorfe of Soul culture.
GTbrougb tfje incibental tasks tofjtcfj mustneebs be
tebtous, tbep babe persebereb, gibing us guibance anb
birection in tbe path of lUfe until toe babe reacljeb tbe
tbresbolb of that ball of Serbtce tobere toe map trp to
carrp out tbeir precepts.
®bep babe taugbt us tbe supreme balue of perSon=
alitp linfeeb toitb training, to bolb btgb tbe Stanbarb
of expert abilitp jotneb toitb personal inspiration.
HENRY LAWRENCE SOUTHWICK
HARRY SEYMOUR ROSS
ALLEN ARTHUR STOCKDALE
WILLIAM HOWLAND KENNY
TECHNIQUE OF THE VOICE
CHARLES WINSLOW KIDDER
vocal physiology; hygiene of the voice; acoustics
WALTER BRADLEY TRIPP
DRAMATIC INTERPRETATION; HISTORY OF THE DRAMA; IMPERSONATION
WILLIAM G. WARD, A. M.
ENGLISH LITERATURE; PSYCHOLOGY
SILAS A. ALDEN, M. D.
APPLIED ANATOMY; HYGIENE; PHYSICAL TRAINING
PRISCILLA C. PUFFER
ELSIE R. RIDDELL
gymnastics; fencing; aesthetic dancing
HARRIET C. SLEIGHT
anatomy; physiology; hygiene
LILIA ESTELLE SMITH
HISTORY OF EDUCATION; PEDAGOGY; SCHOOL MANAGEMENT
EL VIE BURNETT WILLARD
LYCEUM AND CONCERT READING; INSTRUCTOR IN REPERTOIRE
FOSS LAMPRELL WHITNEY
PERSONAL CRITICISM; EVOLUTION OF EXPRESSION
TECHNIQUE OF THE VOICE; ARTICULATION
GERTRUDE M. CHAMBERLIN
BROWNING AND TENNYSON
MAUD GATCHELL HICKS
DRAMATIC LITERATURE AND INTERPRETATION
AGNES KNOX BLACK
LITERARY INTERPRETATION; ANALYSIS;
READING AS A FINE ART
EBEN CHARLTON BLACK, A. M., LL. D.
POETICS; ENGLISH AND AMERICAN LITERATURE
ROBERT HOWES BURNHAM
DRAMATIC TRAINING; MAKE-UP
Amelia Myel Green .... President
Frederick R. Dixon .... Vice-President
Martha Lela Carey .... Secretary
Mary Shambach Treasurer
Red and White
Chic-a Chac-a Chie
Chic-a Chac-a Cho
E. C. O.
anti pou shall
beholb an arrap
of faces tofncf) habe
selbom before been Seen
altogether in one group.
&h, pes, ask the ipresibent
of the Mentor Class hobo many
times she has been able to gather
us all before her. Put nobo, in this
our gallerp, boe are bohere toe cannot
run aboap. &S pou turn the pages pou
catch us unatoares, anb no longer can
rehearsals be our plea for escape. i?o, toe
are here, looking our best, too, anb it is
thus toe booulb habe pou remember us,
for after our trials anb tribulations of
Commencement, boe shall not look
so inspiring as boe bo nobo.
&>o, turn, Sngutsttor! anb let
the fullness of our faces, the
lustre of our epes anb
calm repose of manner
remain in pour mem=
orp as tppifping
the brilliant anb
capable class of
Amelia Myrl Green,
St. John, New Brunswick, Canada
Class President, ’13
Amelia Green, oh who has seen
A dearer, sweeter girl?
Would that all Life’s announcements
Could be made by Myrl.
A Model Girl
Frederick R. Dixon,
South Gastonbury, Vermont
He was one of the men of our Senior Class,
You know we had but two,
But we used him to advantage
As Bianca in “The Shrew.”
Funny Romeo Doings
Mary Ellen Shambach,
President of Student Association, ’13
Class Treasurer, T3
It’s a lovely name, is Mary —
And she is truly named;
For she was the living presence
Of that for which we aimed.
Makes Everything Satisfactory
Martha Lela Carey,
Class Secretary, ’13
Stunt Committee, ’12
Prom Committee, ’12
Assistant Editor-in-Chief of Year Book, ’13
Like to a delicate blue harebell,
Deep-rooted with strength of stem,
And a fragrance ever reaching
To the hearts of her fellowmen.
Recitals Ever Appalling
Lillian Marie Anne, AA<S>
Junior Stunt Committee, ’12
Lovely Lady Lillian,
Ready to make excuse,
Somehow with the hearts of men,
She played the very deuce.
Magnanimous, Loyal, Conscientious
Rhea Evalynn Ashley, AA4>
Middletown, New York
Class Vice-President, ’10
She was the one with the big brown eyes,
Hair with a bit of curl,
Gazing from under the shepherdess hat,
Just a bewitching girl.
Liked Matinees Awfully
Interesting While Bostoning
Elizabeth Lorraine Beattie KTX
Rochester, New York
Ah, our Betty sure is Irish,
As her rich color shows;
She’s a big heart and beauty and talent,
That everybody knows.
Erin’s Laughing Belle
Laura Elizabeth Bell. Z<t>H
Enosburg Falls, Vermont
Bessie Bell from cold Vermont,
With her piquant pug of hair,
Was ever ready for a romp
An’ wouldn’t take a dare.
Inez Washburn Bassett,
If you’re looking for a reader,
Inez Bassett knows a store,
For she’s known here at the College,
As “the girl with the repertoire.”
Loves Every Body
Mary F. Blanchet,
Manchester. New Hampshire
As Araminta with ruffles and curls,
With wiggles and giggles, too,
She played her part in the Garrick play,
With a touch that sure rang true.
Mighty Few Blunders
Disa Eleanor Brackett, <t>Mr
Student Council, ’ll
Chairman of Junior Prom, ’12
Commencement Committee, ’13
Now, what do you think of Disa,
In giving us such a shock,
She must place her own name in Brackets for sure,
And take Allen in wedlock.
Helen Brewer, $Mr
Bar Harbor, Maine
Class Treasurer, ’ll, ’12
Prom Committee, ’12
Deserves Eternal Bliss
There’s such a charm about her,
We couldn’t get on without her,
Her ways boyish, mad, and bold.
Strung upon a thread of gold.
[ 35 ]
Ethel Currie Brooks,
Prom Committee, ’12
Mrs. Brooks deserted her books,
A college bride to be;
Wonder if she’ll stop as Senior
Or come back as a P. G.
Eloping College Bride
Laughing, Mischievous “Bud”
Ossining, New York
Chairman Stunt Committee, ’12
Magazine Board, ’12
Y. W. C. A. Vice-President ’12
Stunt Committee, ’13
Secretary Students’ Association, ’13
Business Manager of Year Book, ’13
Mighty frank, I tell you what,
But underneath somewhere,
There’s a touch of poetry,
That makes her mighty fair.
Lillian Marie Brown,
“Bud” we were wont to call her,
She won out in comedy stroke,
Her first success was Chrysos,
And her last a Rev. joke.
Lillian R. Carlen,
Winthrop Centre, Massachusetts
Endowment Committee, ’12
Prom Committee, ’12
Lady Lillian dines at the Plaza,
To opera and theatre goes,
If dramatics is your subject,
It’s Lillian who always knows.
Likely Literary Contributor
Mabelle Maxine Clow,
Rochester, New Hampshire
An arm and a hand in a curved line,
A body poised on two small feet,
• A dizzying dance, and a ballet gown,
And you see this maid complete.
Likes Rich Chaps
Lillian Lee Clark, Niantic, Connecticut
Endowment Committee, ’ll
Stunt Committee, ’13
Y. W. C. A. Cabinet, ’13
Magazine Reporter, ’13
His name is ever on her lips,
Yes, ever and anon —
But will anybody tell me
Just who is this man, “John”?
Manipulating Much Coquetry
Mary A. Cody,
Class Vice-President, ’12
Class Marshal, ’12
Commencement Committee, ’13
She’s as sweet and neat and simple
As a daisy in the sun,
“Yet what a queenly Marshal!”
Was the comment from everyone.
Manages Any Concern
J. Ethelwynn Cunningham,
There is something very lovely
In this versatile maid from the North;
We wonder which of Life’s games she’ll win,
This pretty, pouty Ethelwynn.
Judiciously Expressed Comradeship
Jessie Isabelle Dalton,
Long Branch, New Jersey
Class President, ’ll
Stunt Committee, ’ll
Student Council, ’12
Editor-in-Chief of Year Book, ’13
From college infancy to college old age,
We have somehow waited for “Jess”
To jump to her feet with words of advice,
In our moments of direst distress.
Jolly, Impulsive, Domestic
[ 38 ]
J. Docia Dodd,
Oh, yes, Docia loved the sweetheart role,
She impassioned it for sure,
But we owe lots to Docia,
True prophecies and — figure.
Joyfully Doing Duties
X. Druscilla Dodson,
Some rich treasures were given you, Drucie,
When into this world you came,
But everyone of us wonders
Who gave you your funny name.
Let X = Dainty Dresser
Bernice Mildred Durgin,
Strafford, New Hampshire
What a service you did render
To the girls in Normal Class,
By the way you kept the roll call,
But that’s what let some pass.
Beyond Much Description
Dorothy Elderdice, A. B., Z<t>H
Dorothy, rosy cheeked maiden,
We’ll remember you the best,
As winning the first prize offered
For the annual story contest.
Alice Love Esmond, AA<t>
Oneonta, New York
I know a girl with a heart of gold,
And a mind that acts as but few,
And I know that I’ll always remember her
And love her well. Won’t you?
Aesthetic Little Elf
Alice May Faulkner, KTX
Alice went three years to the B. U.
When she first came down from Maine,
Then she was very retiring,
Now she raises Cain.
A Merry Funmaker
[ 40 ]
Eva Eleanor Felker,
Poor little Eva! She would insist
That her voice was a horrid one ;
And when all vowed it wasn’t so,
She still thought them making fun.
Caroline Woods Ferris,
Los Angeles, California
At college her theatric instinct
& Has won her a world of fame,
But otherwheres that same instinct
Is called by another name.
Cumbered With Fascinations
Abbie May Fowler, AA<h
Rome, New York
Stunt Committee, ’ll
Chairman of Junior Week, ’12
Blonde hair, dressed high and a stunning gown,
As stunning as ever you’ve seen;
In the realm of social life and whirl.
She was a very queen.
[ 41 ]
A Majestic Figure
Bertha F. M. Gorman,
Charlottetown, P. E. I., Canada
Ask Bert to learn a dozen lines.
She has trouble to memorize,
But let her make the whole thing up,
And at once she’ll improvise.
Ever Reaping Good
Alice Gertrude Green,
With thoughts on the Southland (and perhaps
someone else) ;
For one seldom saw her an hour
Without a monstrous big bouquet,
Or at least one little flower.
Been Fortunate, Much Gain
Emile Rounsevel Goss,
Associate Editor of Magazine, ’12, ’13
This good girl we can remember,
As one who was ever kind;
It was she who always kept the names,
Of her sick classmates in mind.
A Gracious Giver
[ 42 ]
Clara B. Gunderson,
Huron, South Dakota
As she was walking in the Gardens
Those late September days,
Her mass of hair more glorious seemed
Beneath the sun’s bright rays.
Couldn’t Be Graver
Leila D. Harris, $Mr
This lady loved her fellowmen ;
Loved them all to such excess
That everyone was “Honey,”
(One “Honeyer” we confess).
Loves Dancing Hours
Florence Southward Hinckley, Z4>H
Junior Prom Committee, ’12
She’s a very little person, you know,
With a voice so sweet and clear and low;
She’s a bit of a tease and a bit of a flirt,
But she never says things that really hurt.
Fortune Surely Hovers
[ 43 ]
Stamford, New York
Class Secretary, ’ll
Like the morning-glory,
Was this child with the mocking eyes,
Yet down beneath those glances
Something lovely lies.
Myrtie May Hutchinson, ZOH
Wasn’t it pleasant in those old days,
To look across the aisle,
And see Myrtie sitting there
With her slow sweet smile.
Making Many Happy
I think that everyone of us,
Will remember through all his days
That Nella sought out the good part
In each of us to praise.
Amy Loyola La Vigne
Rochester, New York
A Lovable Lass
Helen E. Leavitt, AA<l>
A most decided person,
With a medical turn of mind,
But if hair and eyes mean anything,
She’s some thoughts of another kind.
Harbors Eternal Love
Ida Matilda Leslie,
Halifax, N. S., Canada
This girl as a loyal patriot
Is the greatest you ever saw.
On the slightest provocation
She shouts “Canada! Hurrah!”
She is generally known as attractive,
With a dancing eye and a smile,
But the friends who really know her,
See beneath all, a girl worth while.
Indeed Most Logical
Rushes Mails (?) Wildly
Vera S. MacDonald,
She played Romeo and Juliet,
With abandon quite amazing;
Ah, Vera, if you’d always work
You’d set us all a-praising.
Ruth Margery West, 4>Mr
She had the sweetest manners,
Yet search the zenith round,
When ’twas time for a rehearsal
West wasn’t to be found.
Isabel L. MacGregor,
Riverport, N. S., Canada
A man “who would a-wooing go,”
Might apply to Miss MacGregor,
For Saunders won his lassie so,
And lived in peace forever.
Veritable Society Muse
Incorrigible Lively Minx
[ 46 ]
Campbellton, N. B., Canada
You remember Jean MacLatchy,
That canny little Scott,
Who read those lines for Mrs. Hicks
The rest of us could not.
Anna Maude MacLean,
Charlottetown, P. E. I., Canada
Another Canadian damsel
Is our Maude with demure little ways;
“None knew her but to love her,
None named her but to praise.”
A Mild Miss
Jessie Mackenzie Matheson,
Plainfield, N. S., Canada
Class Secretary, ’12
Y. W. C. A. Secretary, ’12
President Y. W. C. A., ’13
There’s a memory very tender,
That comes to mind with Jean,
A something that’s felt within you,
But seldom if ever seen.
Jovial Merry Mortal
Phyllis L. Moorehead,
A glance at this fair maiden,
With her happy, smiling face,
And we understand why Phyllis
Means simplicity and grace.
Pretty Little Maiden
Olive Olga Newton, Z<t>H
She had such pretty color,
And a mighty winning way;
You know hers was the leading part
In the commencement play.
Our Own Nonpareil
Evelyn Rees Norcross,
Washington, District of Columbia
Chairman Stunt Committee, ’13
A literary lass, indeed,
Witness the Senior stunt,
One who in the world of letters
Is sure to reach the front.
Elicits Real Notability
[ 48 ]
Evelyn Catherine Oalkers, KTX
North Tonawanda, New York
Junior Stunt Committee, ’ll
Senior Stunt Committee, ’12
Class Secretary, ’12
Commencement Committee, ’13
“In the morning, oh, so early,”
Her voice sounded down the hall.
She’s brim full of life and action
Tho’ she isn’t very tall.
Exemplary, Capable, Optimistic
Pearl Aldana Parsley,
Secretary of Y. W. C. A., ’12
Treasurer of Y. W. C. A , ’13
Not always do we find a name
That really suits a girl,
But the fairies must have whispered
When this babe was christened Pearl.
Practical, Amiable, Philosophical
Alice I. Pearson,
Newton Centre, Massachusetts
Gracious, graceful Alice,
Pearson was her other name.
When it came to a stage picture
She really deserved a frame.
An Imposing Princess
M. Josephine Penick,
We all remember her teaching.
Her mental grasp on things;
Her mind disposed of the subject
While we were trying our wings.
Might Join Politics
Mary Boyd Persinger, Z < t>H
“That regal, indolent air she had,
So confident of her charm,”
Yet her smile was sweet, you remember,
Though she didn’t mean to harm.
Majestic Beauty Pictured
Blanche L. Phillips,
Berkshire, New York
Poor Phipsy! One night of her college life
We know she will not forget —
The night she never went to bed,
Blue Book!!! Romeo and Juliet!!!
Black Lashes Play
[ 50 ]
Tall she was and very slender,
This story-telling muse,
With a lilting, lighting comedy
That made the powers enthuse.
Loves Pickaninnies (?)
Wayne W. Putnam,
Cheer Leader, ’13
Mr. Putnam came out of the West,
Out of the West where the sun goes down;
And surely no one will ever forget
How he acted in Boston Town.
Women Wait Patiently
Allie Haley Rice,
A maid with a voice like Omar
That hinted at tragic woe;
Yet there was fun about her,
She played “Tony,” don’t you know.
A Haughty Reserve
[ 51 ]
Mary W. Safford,
Always thoughtful for the student
That had a hill to climb;
She headed the list for our scholarship fund,
We’ll not forget that time.
Marshals Woman Suffrage
Clara M. Theisen, Z<t>H
How she tried to be an angel
In the Physical Culture Class!
And how she read “Sister Beatrice,”
In a way not to surpass!
Considers Men Tiresome (?)
Edith Rosanna Walton,
If you want her for rehearsal, she is always there;
If you want her to play “Tony” she assumes a
She is ready in recitals or to teach in Normal
One can truly say of Edith, “A dependable lass.”
Ever Ready Waiter
[ 52 ]
Marjorie M. Westcott, Z<t>H
Richford, New York
Fortunately for Marjorie,
She usually drew a part
That called for a rose and a Meredith curl,
And some business about a heart.
Mysteriously Managed Work
Julia Jeannette Wiggins,
Your “Mrs. H.” was clever indeed,
Poor, “would-be” and pompous old soul;
And we quite agreed with Professor Tripp
That you were the best in that role.
Justice Judiciously Wrought
Rose Johnson Willis, Z<I>H
A daughter of the South she was,
With chestnut eyes and hair;
We never could explain it — but
We felt sure when Rose was there.
Right Jolly Witch
Junior €Hf iters
Mildred Johnson President
Mattie Riseley Vice-President
Sadie O’Connell Treasurer
.Laura Curtis Secretary
Green and Gold
Rifty, Rafty, Riff Raff
Chifty, Chafty, Chiff Chaff
Let us give a horse laff
[ 54 ]
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albert f. smith
rah for the freshmen
rah — rah — rah
o such a class you never saw —
no one in them can find a flaw-
rail for the freshmen
rah — rah — rah
bailey, lora e.
benjamin, c. evelyn
bigler, grace m.
bradfield, burwell 1.
brown, emily freeman
brown, harriet, m.
call, hazel gertrude
davis, robert h.
frazine, minnie bell
grunewald, marguerite a.
hawkins, ethel florence
henry, helene mar
jettd, georgette h.
jones, edith carolyn
lovejoy, albert russell
mace, louise 1.
macdonald, c. jean
mac gill, genevieve m.
meredith, laura mae
miller, may m.
neel, ethel mallor
peak, theodosia s.
perry, beatriee elinor
ramsey, helen pritchard
scott, edith r.
small, grace eleanor
smith, albert francis
smith, helen moss
Sturdivant, elizabeth m.
vincent, marion f.
waterhouse, gladysmae b
[ 58 ]
tfje pu$e page
before coming to college the prospective
emersbn freshman is visited by many
strange and beautiful dreams she sees
herself walking up and down the narrow
crooked streets in the very steps of the
nation’s greatest she sees herself in
various places of historic interest and
last but not least she sees herself in
college she has visions of long study
hours as well as of midnight spreads and
but the time of dreams passes quickly
by and freshman finds herself in boston
the city of her fond hopes as well as of
baked beans and culture on the day be-
fore the opening of school as she leaves
the train she gives one bewildered look at
it the station and the narrow crooked
streets and alleys which lead everywhere
and nowhere at one and the same time
and then spying a taxi she jumps in and
with a thankful heart pronounces the
magic word emerson chauffeur bows
and freshman rides to the college in state
there she meets the president and dean
and then begins the hunt for a room
they send an older girl with a list of
available rooms with her and they start
bravely forth she prefers to carry her
suit-case and umbrella for they seem to
give her something tangible to grasp
her companion talks about the college
as she skillfully guides her around they
are forced to wander over considerable
territory and oh that suit-case some
rooms are dark others have no heat
more than that she wants emersonians in
the house with her and then they find
a room that seems just right but soon
find that the chafing-dish is debarred now
every college freshman knows that she
simply cannot exist without it and so
the search is resumed but all troubles
quickly pass and she finds a room and
room-mate that just suit Irel-
and then she goes back again to the
office as quickly as possible upon being
asked if she is not satisfied with her place
she replies yes thank you i have my
room and i like it very much but i want
to buy some college stationery she is
promptly accommodated and then with
a thumping little heart and hurried
glances in all directions at the numbers
over each and every door she finds her
way back to her own room and begins
to write letters to the folks at home she
cries herself to sleep that night and the
next morning is ready to start upon her
so having gone through all of the pre-
liminary stages of homesickness she goes
down early to perform the sacred duty
of registration there she finds a vast
crowd assembled for the old students are
arriving and such a grand hand-shaking
and embracing laughing and talking you
never saw unless you too have been an
emerson freshman the voices and laugh-
ter run the entire gamut of the musical
scale and every principle of expression
ever heard or dreamed of in our philoso-
phy is put into practice on the spot ani-
mation and volume are perhaps the most
noticeable characteristics every few min-
utes another girl arrives and then occurs
what might be called a vital slide at
any rate they reach her side promptly
everyone is bubbling over with the joy
of getting back and as freshman watches
their brightness and courtesy as well as
jollity she feels much better and reflects
that at one time they too were new and
strange but she is not alone with her
feelings of strangeness there are many
others in fact all about these little
groups of girls there is a sort of fringe
of new homesick ones and freshman
takes her place in the fringe about
two feet from everyone she endeavors
to look unconcerned and indifferent but
finds it next to impossible however she
keeps very quiet even when spoken to
and she answers everything as briefly as
possible for unfortunately there is no
handbook of freshman etiquette published
and as she does not at that early date
know the kind of hazing current at
emerson she feels that discretion is the
better part of valor and so maintains
silence even if the seniors do look sane
and seem friendly
Minnie Bell Frazine, ’15
$o£it (graiiuate ©fhcers
Helena B. Churchill .... President
Abbie Ball Vice-President
Winifred Bent Secretary
Ruth Watts Treasurer
Gold and White
Hipsa, Miliga, Halliga, Sopsa
Hipsa, He, Hao
We are the Class of 1912
We are so
’12 — ’12 — ’ 12 !
Helena B. Churchill,
Stunt Committee, ’12
Commencement Committee, ’12
Class President, ’13
In a gym suit of green, the greatest you’ve seen,
There never was another
On young or old or timid or bold,
As that one worn by “mother.”
Abbie Anne Ball,
** Millington, Quebec, Canada
Class Vice-President, ’13
O thou masculine mind, what a woman thou art,
And how thou dost love repartee,
And maybe that is the reason
Why they’re (?) all so afraid of thee.
Winifred Hamilton Bent, Z<t>H
West Somerville, Massachusetts
Class Vice-President, ’12
Y. W. C. A. Cabinet, ’ll, ’12
Stunt Committee, ’ll
Class Secretary, T3
If the work piles high and you’ve so many lines
To learn, that you get the dumps,
Do as W did and go to bed
With an awful case of mumps.
Rachel Alverda Kanaar, B. A., M. A.
It was she who could wear a cap and gown
And a hood with a kind of “frieze,”
For she’s traveled and studied the country o’er,
And those stripes stand for degrees.
Edna Delphin Case,
Student Council, ’ll
President of Y. W. C. A.
Class Treasurer, ’13
Student Council, ’13
Avillian! A very villian!
Who’d believe it in this Case?
She’s a good girl in Y. W.,
But when she plays, there is no trace.
Olive B. Clark, AA$
Milford, New Hampshire
This is the age when much beauty is false,
And one’s hair is not always her own;
So when a girl has a wealth of hair,
As has Olive, it ought to be known.
[ 63 ]
Mary M. Sullivan,
Westerly, Rhode Island
“Bobby,” you’re just the cutest thing;
We can see you yet, as you sat
On the floor, in “The Game of Comedy,”
And naively asked, “How’s that?”
Deana Mary Coad,
Why did you shock your home folk so?
That joke was too sinister.
Next time you tell them such a tale,
Don’t make it a minister.
Anna M. Keck, Z<t>H
Johnstown, New York
Stunt Committee, ’10
Junior Week Committee, ’ll
Endowment Committee, ’ll
Cheer Leader, ’ll, ’12, ’13
Ann has wide perspective
On matters of right and wrong,
And in some of the Brown- — studies
Those opinions were pretty strong.
[ 64 ]
Ruth Beth Watts, Z<t>H
Dover, New Jersey
Class Treasurer, ’13
One would think Ruth had lived among
The kind who are regular “fops,”
For without any effort, it seems that both
Their swagger and speech she adopts.
Jean Carlyle Welsh,
Gorham, New Hampshire
How we shivered and shook behind our book
And sought to get under cover,
When you pictured that day, in your grue-
The madness of “Porphyria’s lover.”
Neva Ferne Walters,
West Pittston, Pennsylvania
Y. W. C. A. Cabinet, ’13
Class Sergeant-at-Arms, ’13
Perhaps we’ll best remember you
Throughout our future days,
As the girl who laughingly tossed her head
And had such coquettish ways.
Lillian R. Hartigan, <t>Mr
Class Treasurer, TO
Class Vice-President, ’ll
Stunt Committee, ’ll
Commencement Committee, ’12
Assistant Business Manager of the Year Book, ’ll
Business Manager of the Year Book, ’12
Lillian, who poses for pictures,
And Lillian, the juvenile lead.
When Lillian isn’t talking,
She’s going against her creed.
Alberta Frances Black,
’Tis she whom theFresh feared while they loved,
For she was a “ substitute.”
Tho her black eyes danced, her lips were firm;
So they sought for good repute.
Josephine W. Whitaker,
Some are here to be teachers,
Some are here to shirk,
Some aim for the stage or platform;
But she’s here ’cause she loves the work.
Marguerite Ray Albertson, <t>Mr, Bridgeton, New Jersey
iPosSt (Sraii fHemories
The end, alas, is drawing near;
There is no doubt in it, no fear;
Yet sad that we so soon must go,
Forever out from E. C. O.
We gather, so it doth appear,
From North and South, from far and near,
And bring together what we may
To fashion ’gainst the going ’way.
Some bring spontaneous youth and joy
That serious work cannot destroy ;
Nor Time, nor Place, nor Circumstance
Can suggest a thoughtful inward glance.
Others, the earnest, serious side
Of life portray, whate’er betide;
And ones on whom we may depend
To be just and fair and the truth defend.
The hazy mist of Evolution,
Julius Caesar and Burke’s Oration,
Physical Culture and Milton and Chaucer,
We worry through and understand after.
On another rung we place our foot,
In the ladder of fame we’re climbing up.
The speaker, hearer, subject, too,
And this is Forensics, through and through.
Oh, that with every Class you might share
The joy of analyzing “Vanity Fair.”
The nights of sleeplessness, days of woe;
“This paper is due March 8, you know.”
The Senior Year with its scenes and scenes
And then more scenes. And this it means,
That rehearse you must, morn, noon and night.
Till the scene goes on. Oh, dear delight!
But the last is best of all the four;
We backward look and ponder o’er
All the way that you have come,
And relish the good things, one by one.
So to all graduates let me say,
Return the fourth year, do not say “Nay.”
’Tis the best, the cream! You’ll be glad if you do,
If not, I’m afraid your decision you’ll rue.
Abbie Ball, T2.
imperial ^tubents’ Roll
Bixby, Warren Newton
Coppenrath, Antoinette E.
Gilman, Esther J.
Hartwell, Lillian F.
Howell, Caroline Woods
Lunt, Alfred D.
Merrinam, Clifton H.
Miner, Flora Rice
Mosher, Pansy Barnes
Owen, Julie Gore
Savery, Emerson Blaine
Towne, Marie Reed
Wells, Marion Ann
Wilson, Nellie Lee
Weeks, Juliet Naomi
®fje Unsuspecting (<5ooSe
HpHERE was nothing romantic about
him. He gave his name as John
Hollister, and his occupation as a civil
engineer. His personal property con-
sisted of a small trunk, some fishing rods
and a violin, which he never touched
until after sunset. In looks, he answered
to the description of the modern hero, so
I will not dwell on broad shoulders,
brown eyes and a waving pompadour.
His taste in dress was excellent, and his
manner that of a gentleman. Nothing
very definite was known about him.
However, the reason for his coming to
Peachdale was simple enough. They were
orphan children, but while Hollister had
been out West building bridges, his
pretty little sister had married a million.
Thus his introduction into society was
sudden and it was unwelcome.
Furthermore, it had been arranged by
his sister and the rest of polite society at
Sachem, that when Mrs. Van Travers’s
niece, Rosaline, came on from the West,
he would take her to a “pink tea,” to a
“fire-fly” dance, and then out on Silver
Lake, in a canoe, not ten feet from shore,
under the influence of a bewitching moon,
he would ask her to be his wife. She,
already rehearsed by her aunt, would say,
“This is so sudden,” and accept him.
Then they would go ashore and receive
the blessings of those unfortunate souls,
who deceive themselves into believing
they are all things they are not. Mrs.
Van Travers had already selected the
country estate for them. She promised
that Hollister might choose his own car.
It was a fine July afternoon and some-
thing in the atmospheric elements sug-
gested a drive, so Hollister straightway
provided himself with an outfit from the
[ 69 ]
village stable. To begin with, stable
horses are not selected stock. Poor
creatures, they have usually served a full
apprenticeship on an undertaker’s wagon,
a hack, or in the fire department, and
just when they should have a little
chloroform and be put to sleep in mother
earth, they are bought up by a horse
dealer — but I am straying from my story.
•Hollister’s might have served as an
undertaker’s horse. She was neither
swift nor very accurate and the wagon
groaned in every joint. Out of respect
for her years, he let the gray mare straggle
along, and once she stopped to nibble a
birch bough. The road was very narrow.
Hollister breathed deeply and con-
gratulated himself on his marvelous
escape from the charms of Miss Rosaline.
“Ah, I suppose I would have been
caged by now. Thank heaven, I am free!
And my dear little, unknown Rosaline,
you are lucky, too. After all, perhaps we
would have been happy. I suppose you
are now entwining your loving tendrils
around some unsuspecting goose. What
Without previous intimation his horse
neighed lustily and was quickly answered.
“A team ahead, go slow, old girl. It is
just around the bend.” Around the bend
they faced a high-headed bay attached
to a sheddy little buggy. It stood quite
alone and occupied all the road.
“Oh, goodness!” exclaimed a girl in a
white sailor suit and a broad-brimmed
Panama, as she scrambled out of the
bushes, with her arms full of clematis,
and reached for the bridle of her horse.
Hollister surveyed the situation grave-
ly. “No chance of my passing on either
side?” he asked. “Well, this is a con-
foundedly narrow road.”
“I don’t think either of us are to blame,”
“No, I suppose not, but that doesn’t
solve the problem,” and the man who
could build a bridge was perplexed.
“Oh, cheer up,” laughed the girl. “Are
you in a hurry? I know what we can do,
The idea of this slip of a girl telling
him to cheer up injured his dignity, and
yet there was something kind of noble
in her attitude. He mumbled a few
words including “hurry,” all the time
painfully conscious of his animal’s speed
limit. Then he dropped the reins and
ran his fingers through his thick brown
pompadour. The girl had meanwhile
deposited the clematis on the floor of her
buggy, and again stepping to the side of
her horse, she began to unfasten some
“We’ll have to take the horses out, turn
the wagons about, and you can take mine,
and I’ll drive back to town in yours. I’d
offer you my horse, but it’s Uncle Dave’s
blue ribbon ‘Jack,’ and I never drove him
before. He is very particular about Jack.
You don’t mind lending me your carriage,
do you? You live in town, don’t you?”
“I am staying in town at present, but
this rig isn’t fit for you to get into.”
“Oh, never mind thaj^ Anything from
a wheelbarrow to a limousine suits me.
I just love to drive.”
“This is sort of a lame-ozine,” pro-
The girl laughed gaily. “IU1 have my
horse out first if you don’t begin. If
Uncle Dave wouldn’t worry, I’d drive
back, but it is seven miles the way I have
come, and it is quite late already. He
shouldn’t worry about me. I can manage
any horse on Daddy’s ranch.”
Hollister jumped to the ground just as
she led Jack out of the shafts.
“There, I’ve beat,” she said smiling
“I presume you could beat me at most
anything,”' Hollister returned, still look-
ing at his rig with all possible contempt.
“Let me help you,” she insisted; “I am
afraid you are in a hurry. Are you?”
She threw the bridle of her horse over a
protruding branch and came to his side.
He turned and looked for an instant
straight into her deep blue eyes. She
challenged the best that was in him.
With considerable force he said, “I
am going to chuck this thing up in the
bushes and let you drive past.” He began
tugging at a wheel.
"But it will ruin — ”
“Never mind that,” he interrupted
kindly. “It would be a risk to let you
drive that spirited horse in this affair.
See there.” And one wheel rolled off.
The girl became less disconcerted as
Hollister’s attacks on the vehicle became
more violent. She did not express any
further feeling for his recklessness either
by word or look, but began hitching Jack
into her buggy. Hollister thought that
she was singing, but her voice was like
music whenever she spoke. One more
, tug at the old vehicle and it lay a wreck by
the roadside. He breathed a sigh of relief.
“Will you drive back with me? Come,
of course you will. You are exhausted.
There is a delightful spring just a little
way off where you can have a nice cool
Her invitation did not lack in alluring
qualities for Hollister, but he managed
to say: “Thank you, thank you, but I
must see my horse back to the stable.”
“Oh she’ll follow the wagon on a
halter,” and the girl gave the patient
animal a little nose pat.
“Girl,” ejaculated Hollister, “if I were
to lead that piece of horse flesh back to
town with your blue ribbon ‘Jack’ setting
the pace, she’s be a dead one. Better
leave her here with the wreckage.”
“Oh, not if I hold Jack in check.
Come! Do you think I’d be as cruel as
that?” She mounted to her place and sat
very straight. Hollister understood the
significance of her manner and obeyed.
“I suppose she is entwining her loving
tendrils around some unsuspecting goose,”
he was saying to himself.
For half a mile they hardly spoke. But
when they had passed the little spring,
and each had been refreshed by a spark-
ling drink, conversation began again.
“I believe you spoke of your father’s »
ranch,” suggested Hollister.
“Yes, down in Texas. It’s great fun,
but it’s kind of lonesome sometimes, and
one of my aunts sent for me to come
East — my father’s brother’s wife. My
uncle is dead. But I am visiting my
mother’s people now. It’s my first visit
East. I just dread to go to my other
“Because she thinks I have been
brought up so crude, and she wants to
introduce me into society, and I’m afraid
her friends won’t like me.”
“Oh, they couldn’t help liking you.
Don’t be afraid of society. It’s the
greatest bluff in the world. I know about
“You’re very kind, but tell me about
“Well, when you go into society you
must leave all your ideas outside, and
never let on that you can ‘manage any
horse on Daddy’s ranch.’ And if you
must speak of the ranch disguise it in
ethereal terms. Then your vocabulary
must be limited. But it’s easy to catch
on to the vernacular. Never try to be
“Oh, you are so funny! Do tell me
“I am just escaping from it. Two
weeks ago society almost had me married
to a little creature I had never seen.”
“How romantic, and my aunt — ”
“Not at all. But here we are at the
stable. Thank you for my ride and may
I ask the name of one who has given me
such a pleasan" hour?”
“My name is just Rosaline Van
“Ye gods! After all, I am the unsus-
“Why, what’s the matter?”
“I am John Hollister. Will you marry
“0— oh— ”
“ ‘Oh! This is so sudden. Yes.’ No,
Rosaline, it must be a decision of your
own heart, and you must have plenty of
time to decide. But may I call at your
The wedding in October was a grand
finale for the season. The estate was
fine and the limousine a peach.
Lillian Lee Clark. T3
®Jje ©dt of (Soil
Written to be given with the Emerson
exercises; a double bar indicates a change
of exercise , a single bar, a change within
the exercise. The exercises are taken in
their regular order.
r | "'HERE is in this world such a strange
-*■ little thing. | 0 it’s so shy and so
small. | So very timid and so wild; | quite
like a flower, it’s so sweet and so mild. |
Harsh and rude sounds startle a fawn
from his dell | and a note without love
sends it quivering apart to closely,
darkly lie hidden. \ To sunshine and
warmth a bird’s song will respond | and
It will always unfold to a smile. || We
bow to its faith, | we kneel to its trust, |
and its fresh and bright innocence we
love and adore. | We marvel its wisdom, |
we worship its strength. | Yet we fear
and we pray, it’s so young and so
small. || It lives all alone in a world of its
own; | no black, ugly thing enters there,
Doubt, Fear or Care. | For tho’ all be
about, | It knows only the fair. | It’s a
serious, wee thing | with eyes that look
deep, | and he must give up every art, |
each conceit, | who would live in its land |
and be one of its friends. || You can find
tinkling brooks in its laugh. | You can
hear chirping birds in its voice. | You can
see answers to questions your heart has
long sought, in its eye. | You can feel
rose leaves in its touch. | You can catch
sobbing waves in its cry. | You will own
wealth beyond kings in its love. 1 1 Do you
know It, | this lovely, wild thing, | this best
Gift of God, | this Heart of a Child? |j
Alice Love Esmond. ’13
\ GOOD half-mile from the Gap
Resort, in what was once the very
heart of Indian haunts, there stands a
great stone house. Here for generations
have lived the Anderson family. John
Anderson owned the big hotel at the Gap
Resort but the call of the wilds in his
blood led him to live in the old ancestral
home, farther north. His silent, wide-
eyed daughter, Jean, had all her life
lived out among the hills that rose on
every side — a very child of Nature;
and she justly claimed a kinship with it
all, for in her veins a trace of Indian
blood explained her straight black hair
and rather irregular features. She loved
this quiet life, but after her return from
college she had sometimes been induced
to join her father’s guests on some great
mountain climb. Upon one such occasion
she had met a western man. She was
not unconscious of Ward Alston’s look of
admiration the day her father had pre-
sented her to them and said his daughter
would guide the guests that day. Her
Indian blood was telling, she had known,
as she led them along the steep and fear-
ful trails; but she had always found him
near at hand when she would pause to
wait for those less used to mountain life
than she. What a strangely fascinating
picture she had been that day as she stood
among those hills, with them, and yet
alone — her straight black hair drawn
close against her brow, her great, wide,
silent eyes, her cheeks aglow! But
oddly enough they marked that she chose
to wear high on her breast wild roses,
gathered at the start, near the foot of the
highest cliff, which later they rounded
to the plains above. They had smiled
at her fancy at first, but when they had
reached the heights, they saw her move
slowly toward the cliff, a strange light
in her eyes, unfasten the roses at her
neck, and standing on the very ledge
itself, drop the flowers, one by one, into
the abyss below; then turn away to lead
them on across the almost level tract
that lay beyond. Before they had left
the cliff, young Alston had paused at her
side to ask in a voice that showed he
understood, “Will you tell me the legend
of that great cliff some day?” She had
studied his face before she made reply.
“Perhaps, some day,” he remembered
she had said. And since that time this
man had spent his days along the river
or among the hills with Jean.
They had sat one night for hours
beneath the stars, facing the giant hills
to the northwest. On the right rippled
the waters of the Delaware — shallow
at this point, and lying far below the
canal which ran close to a little low gar-
den. The farthest bank of this canal rose
to a tow-path, shaded by trees. The
peculiar charm of the landscape held them
in a strange silence. Marj, a younger
sister, had joined the two and lay close
by the side of Jean, her idol. From far-
ther up the river a coal-barge could be
heard approaching (for the night was
very still) , and the slow, rhythmic tinkle
of bells, worn by the mules by which the
boats are drawn, lent their harmony to
this woodland night symphony. Then
the splash of their feet could be heard as
they crossed an overflow just above the
house, and the stumbling of a hoof
against a loose stone rolled it off into the
river many feet below. A plaintive
accordeon helped to break the stillness
with its monotonous melody, and when
the boat had passed, four long, loud calls
from a conch-shell plainly said to an old
lock-tender farther down the level, “Open
the lock,” and soon came back a strangely
whistled answer acknowledging the signal.
Then all was still again. “Jean, you have
never told me the legend of yonder cliff.
I’m in the mood for ghostly tales tonight.
Tell me of this Dahna and her leap.”
Jean hesitated, then a glance from
Marjorie’s soft brown eyes invited her
to share their favorite tale with this new
friend of theirs and of the hills. “I never
tell this legend to our guests for it means
more to me than others can understand.
You know the country round us here is
rich in beauty, legend, and romance.
The settlement before the coming of the
whites was a favored spot with what was
perhaps the best clan of all North Ameri-
can Indians, the Lenni Lenape, which in
our English tongue means ‘Men of Men,’
and commonly called the Delawares.
With them our forefathers lived in peace
and friendship for more than fifty years.
Directly before you is Turtle Rock and
beyond it on the farther side you see the
cliff, long known as ‘Dahna’s Leap.’
Back from the brow of the cliff there
stretches for miles, you know, a level
tract of land and that was the settlement
of the Turtle tribe. They were said to
be very exclusive in the matter of inter-
marriage. This had aroused some little
warfare from time to time, when Cupid
shot his arrows across the river and
pierced the heart of some noble brave
among the so-called Turkey tribe on the
Jersey shore, and he would immediately
set forth to revolutionize affairs and,
in spite of custom, resolve to wed the
maid. But no adventurer was ever
known to win. Usually a brave in her
own tribe would announce that he would
defend the girl, and this defendant and
the alien lover would settle the matter
by some endurance test or hand-to-hand
conflict. As I told you, Lenni Lenape
means ‘Men of Men,’ and they seldom
stooped to treachery in such matters.
But there is always an exception, and so
it came to pass, that one day a lusty
brave from the Jersey shore sought the
lands of the Turtle tribe. Greeting the
old Chief, Ak-ke-long-qua, with a series
of grunts, and laying at his feet gifts of
gaudy robes and trinkets, he told his
tale of love for the old chief’s daughter,
and begged that the two tribes might
join hands across the watery divide.
Courteously but firmly he refused, and
the young brave turned away.
“Some nights later he came again;
but this time stealthily and hid among
the rocks and caves. Once he saw her
as she passed quite close to where he hid
but she seemed to wait for someone, so
he only looked and longed for her the
more. The next night she came again,
and then he thought it must be when her
sweetheart brave was out for game, she
met him here above the cliff. The
jealousy of his nation fired his veins as
this thought filled his brain. He watched
her close. She stood, her back to him,
outlined against the sky. He caught her
muttered words, ‘Ha-wa-wah comes when
young moon touch our trees. Ha-wa-wah
hunt man-game. Who is? Dahna wait.
Ha-wa-wah tell her sometime, may-be-so.’
The skulking Indian started in surprise
at the news the words conveyed to him.
He knew he was the man and that the-
time between then and moonrise was
his only chance to capture her and fly.
In an instant he had sprung to her side
and held her firmly in his grasp. Turning
her to him he told her who he was, —
Chief Paunacussing’s son, and rich in
fame and power; rebelled against her
father’s cursed pride; then vowed his
love and said that she should go across
the river now, a captive bride. She heard
his words, then wrestled in his grasp.
Meanwhile the moon had risen to meet
the pines, and over the brow of the near-
est hill, Ha-wa-wah came from the
North. He saw his Dahna at her wonted
spot, but with her stood a man who held
her close. With frenzied brain he crept
on hand and foot to where he could
plainly see what brother of his tribe his
Dahna met in tryst. At that moment
he saw her slip from out the strange
man’s grasp, take but one step, then stag-
ge 1 ? from a blow the man had struck.
Ere she could fall the savage caught her
in his arms, then southward bore her,,
toward the river and his lands that lay
“Then it was that Ha-wa-wah realized
the awful truth, and with winged-foot
set close chase. Hearing pursuit, the
man turned to look, and seeing a single
brave upon his tracks, he dropped the
senseless girl and turned to defend him-
self. Hand to hand they fought; now
one and now the other held his man.
But in their madness they had quite for-
gotten their nearness to the cliff, when
suddenly, seeing defeat, the alien con-
ceived a treacherous move — fatal for
both of them. They should die at the
foot of the cliff. Although held upon
his back, he swung himself around,
clinging desperately the while to Ha-wa-
wah. For an instant they paused on the
rocky ledge as a twig on the verge of a
mighty cataract, ere it plunges into the
seething abyss below; then over they
turned and fell five hundred feet down.
Dahna came to herself just in time to
see her lover plunge to his death below
and held in the grasp of him of the tribe
across the river.
“Strangely alone she stood and mur-
mured low, ‘Ha-wa-wah gone!’ Then
comprehending it all, she wandered back
to the camp — to a life that was empty
and bare. When each day’s sun sank to
rest, and twilight fell over all, she grew
restless and sad, and when the stars
came out and the moon rose over the
pines, she would creep away to the cliff
to commune with her grief alone. Then
Winter laid his blanket upon the barren
rocks, but each night, as before, she came
to wait. Then Spring brought back new
life to Earth, but her hopes still lay dead;
and Summer found a once bright Indian
maid a sad, strange being, living and yet
dead. All memory had gone, save one
fond thought, which burned but deeper
now as Time dragged on, ‘When the
moon touched the tips of the slender
pines Ha-wa-wah would come again.’
Among the hills she’d wander day by day,
yet never spoke except sometimes to
caution with a finger on her lips, ‘Ha-wa-
wah comes tonight,’ then dart away as
though in haste to meet him ere he came.
Her people held the strange-eyed girl
in awe, and reverenced her as had she
been a god. Then Autumn came. A
year had crept away, and every night
she kept her eager watch. And when he
came not, she would walk along the ledge
and call his name. Sometimes the chief
would follow her unseen, then turn back
to his wigwam in the wood and wait
till weariness might bring her home.
Each night she lingered longer on the
ledge. He knew some night she never
would return. At last it came. And her
people understood that she had gone to
meet him whom she loved. On the
morrow, with the first faint rays of light,
the old chief came. Far, far below him,
in the deep ravine, a bit of scarlet cloth
had caught his eye. Chief Ak-ke-long-
qua stood and looked and turned, and as
the sun lit up the eastern sky, he led his
people westward to the plains.
“And they say that sometimes when
the young moon climbs the hill and silvers
the tips of those slender pines above, and
the night calls loud to her, she walks the
ledge again and calls his name.”
Jean’s voice had sunk to a whisper.
Their eyes were on the cliff. Only the
chirp of crickets and the ripple of the
waters broke the silence of the night.
“Has anyone really seen her, do you
know?” Jean slowly moved her head
to answer, “Yes.” A strange light filled
her eyes. Just once before — that first
day on the cliff — had he seen that glow
light up her wondrous eyes. “Do you
mean that you have seen this vision,
“Yes; it was just such a night as this.
The moon did not rise till late, but the
heavens were bright with stars, and the
country round seemed to lie beneath a
spell, even as now. I could not stay in-
doors, so I stole outside, and here for
hours I sat alone. Suddenly a sound,
half moan, half sigh, fell sadly on the
air. I started to my feet. Following the
sound, my eyes wandered to yonder cliff,
and there upon the very edge, a vision
walked in white, and I heard it distinctly
call, and the name was ‘Ha-wa-wah. r
Some minutes passed and the legend
came back to me; then I heard my own
lips murmur low, ‘Dahna!’ The vision
slowly lifted her head; listened as though
she had heard her name, then started
from the ledge. She paused, her face
from me, turned back once more, and
vanished over the cliff.
“We never talk of this to anyone, for
I believe she appears but to those
who can understand, and tonight I
“Look there!” But every eye had
already seen a figure glide toward the
cliff, and a vision in white walked slowly
along the ledge, so close it hovered above
the awful brink, and the name “Ha-wa-
wah” fell upon the air. It was Marjorie
who answered to the call. Clasping her
little hands, she softly cried, “Dahna!
Dahna, dear!” The vision turned her
head as though she heard the cry, then
slowly moved away as if to seek her
one-time camp beyond. Faltering in
her steps she turned once more to the
ledge. She paused, then leaped far out
and vanished into space.
Firmly Alston’s hand closed over Jean’s
and all he whispered was, “I understand.”
Martha Lela Carey, ’13.
£>n tfjc (gentle girt of lulling ®me
Among all the Fine Arts, there is none
more widely patronized than the gentle
Art of killing Time. The man of common
clay may excel in it as easily as the man
of genius. Although the quantity may
vary greatly, each man must work upon
the same kind of material; for
“Our todays and yesterdays
Give the hours that we must kill.”
Naturally, however, our instruments
of torture often vary in degrees of refine-
ment even as a violin of Cremona varies
from the tom-tom of the Indian. But
now, having tried all the barbarous and
most of the refined ways of achieving
perfection in this gentle Art, I have at
last found one that seems most satis-
factory. I refer to that mode of Time
electrocution known as Rehearsing.
There are three portions of the day in
which it is possible to use this mode of
attacking the “Bird of Time,” as Omar
calls it, — the hour between 8.00 and 9.00
a.m.; the hour between 12.30 and 1.15
p.m. ; and the hours between 2.00 and
Let us now set forth the killing of the
first and most elusive of these hours.
You awaken at 7.45, hastily dress, and
realizing that you will have no Time to
kill if you stop for breakfast, content
yourself with the fragrant odors from your
landlady’s kitchen. You hasten down
the street, enter the school door and find
the clock almost ready to clap its hands
at 9.00 o’clock. Too late, alas! for by
the moment you have caught your breath,
a girl advances from the elevator and
informs you that Time has just expired
without your presence.
But courage! The 12.30 hour is one
in which the true sportsman most de-
lights to seek his game. The hunters
come by twos and threes, they glance
into the rehearsal room but as quickly
retreat. You pace up and down, open
your book, close it, look out the window,
pace up and down again, glance at the
door. You look at your watch and find
you have killed only five minutes. Then
two other people enter and Time becomes
still more difficult to attack. You eat
your chocolate and your peanuts and
glance at your watch again. Only five
more minutes have gone. Thus the
process keeps up. You assail Time
harder and harder — now with a bit of
gossip, now with a dance or two. At
last, when you have about given up hope,
the bell rings and you know that the last
moment has finally succumbed.
But the hours between 2.00 and 4.30
are the ones when Time puts up the hard-
est battle. You grow impatient, you fret,
you storm, you fume. When you find
violence has not prevailed you try other
tactics. “Serene you fold your hands and
wait.” But you cannot get away from
Time’s batteries. The tick-tick-tick of
the moments tortures you as exquisitely
as if drops of water were falling every
second on your unprotected head. At
last you find other assassins willing to
fight with you. But even with your
united efforts you progress slowly. Just
when you are almost desperate enough
to bury yourself in the oblivion of study,
a voice rings out, “Well, girls, we must
hurry off to gym. Good-bye.” The
hands of your watch are stretching out
as if in surrender. Time’s death-knell
has been started and you are free once
more — free to begin with a different
mode of attack.
Dorothy Elderdice, T3
[ 76 ]
Some look upon life in a very funny way,
Like the tapestry weavers as of old.
They weave behind the beauty of the picture all the
And do not see the right side, it is told.
To them it’s only tangled ends before their vision,
The rough unfinished threads of different lengths.
The knots are hard and twisted and of many differ-
To untie them it requires all their strength.
But why not adjust the viewpoint of it all.
And look upon the right side of the screen —
Oh, what grandeur and what beauty doth now on us
In those carefully woven colors, gold and green.
Thus it is with life, I fear, we do not see both sides,
And become too pessimistic in our view.
So don’t with only one viewpoint believe you’re
But change and join the optimistic few.
So Life is what you make it, you may like or you
may hate it;
You may fume and you may fret and you may
No one ever shares your trouble. It is yours, so do
It’s a hard world if you think so, but, don’t you!
Elizabeth L. Beattie, ’13.
Be strong to bear, O heart of mine,
Faint not when sorrow comes.
The summits of these hills of earth
Touch the blue skies of home.
So many burdened ones are there,
Close journeying by thy side;
Assist, encourage, comfort them—
Thine own deep sorrow hide.
What tho’ thy sorrow may seem great,
Thy strength is known to God,
And pathways steep and rugged lead
To Pastures green and broad.
[ 77 ]
Be strong to love, O heart of mine,
Live not for self alone;
But find in blessing other lives
Completeness for thine own.
Seek every hungering heart to cheer,
Each saddened heart to feed;
And when stern justice stands aloof,
In pity draw thou near.
Kind, loving words and helping hands
Have won more souls to Heaven
Than all the dogmas and the creeds,
By priests and sages given.
Be strong to hope, O heart of mine,
Look not on life’s dark side,
For just beyond those gloomy hours
Rich, radiant days abide.
Let hope, like summer rainbows bright,
Scatter thy falling tears;
And let God’s precious promises
Dispel thy anxious fears;
For every grief, a gladness comes;
For every toil, a rest.
So hope, so love, so patient bear,
God doeth all things best.
Evelyn Rees Norcross.
Arranged for the Harmonizing Exercises
King Ufred looked on his dominion
Of mountains, hills and valleys low,
As being the aim of all his being,
The harvest which his life had sown.
His little daughter saw the small things,
Which in his kingdom grew —
The grass, the flowers, the trees, the bees,
To her were friends most true.
Once, wandering out through Nature’s garden,
An enchantment held her bound.
Her father called out all his legions,
To seek where’er she might be found.
To every height and crest they traveled,
Now through brake and through thick fen,
To an opening on some high mountain,
Or to some deep and rocky glen.
King Ufred bowed in grief and suppliance,
Did not think that near at hand,
Just by looking at the small things,
Was the treasure of the land.
[ 78 ]
But Magi obeyed his summons,
Hobbled by the parkway stream,
Looked beneath the willow branches,
Parted back the leafy screen.
There, within the flickering shadow,
Where the rippling waters run,
Magi found the little Princess
Weaving thread by spiders spun.
The king listened for the bugle.
No welcoming refrain
Was heard by king or courtier,
In all of that domain.
No thought ever befell him
That a greater power was nigh ;
King Ufred had no comfort,
He could only sit and sigh.
Magi listened to her singing,
Then replaced the leafy branch.
Stealthily he scampered from her,
Casting backward just one glance.
Then he heralded all his chieftains,
Called them to him, one by one;
Gave to each a kingly warning,
Offered prize to him who won.
The dwarf Magi loved the princess,
He would give his life for her.
He, too, bowed in grief and sorrow,
Sat alone, outside the whirl.
But he called forth all the bluebirds,
All the butterflies around.
And the bees buzzed from the dogwood,
That the princess they had found.
The kindgom’s legions traveled
Many miles and miles away;
Searching at the farthest border,
All in vain, day after day.
By the ledges steep and stony,
By the cliff and thorny dell,
By the castle, and the highway —
No reward to them befell.
In his heart he now is thanking
The good Magi up on high,
Who is ever, always watching
With His kind and gracious eye.
Let Dwarf Magi teach a lesson
To us, who look for worldly gain:
That truth, and love, and blessing,
Even that much sought-for fame,
Are lying all about us,
In the things we oft disdain.
Belle McMichael, T4.
[ 79 ]
I entered school, a Freshman shy,
And scarcely dared to raise my eye
To gaze at Junior girls so smart,
Who thought that they must play the part
Of elder sisters to “The Babe,”
Who seemed to them to be afraid
Of teachers thin, and teachers tall,
And even those who were quite small.
And when I heard the stately tread
Of Seniors, grand, I nigh fell dead.
And yet they were not half so grand
As those P. G.’s, who did command
The little Freshies in a class
On every Monday morn, alas!
But oh, how did I e’er survive
Those first few months? Great sakes alive!
My knees did shake, my hands did tremble
When to the class we did assemble,
And had to rise and give a part
Of something that I’d learned by heart.
Alas, ’tis true! Sometimes I wept
When on the floor too long was kept,
And each, Fm sure felt like a dunce;
Yes, indeed, more times than once,
When in a certain class we’d be,
Of Vocal Tech., and oh, dear me!
Analysis was worse than this,
But ne’er a class we’d dare to miss!
Well, those old days have all passed by,
And better days have now drawn nigh.
No more we tremble and look pale
When we arise to read a tale
In Rhetoric, or some such place,
About the well-known human race.
I’ll tell to you the reason why —
We are no longer children shy.
It is because we’re Juniors bold
And want to do whate’er we’re told.
You’d not believe it if I said
That some in Pantomime played dead,
And many other Stunts we’ve had
That truly made our teachers glad.
But soon we’ll be the Seniors, grand,
With hosts of friends on every hand,
And other little Freshmen shy
Will gaze on us with envious eye.
[Written for Rhetoric Class, 1912.]
The little dimple in Billy’s cheek
Is all my Ethics, all my Technique.
All the Expression that I know
Are his of joy, or his of woe.
All that I can prove in Debate
Is “without him my world is desolate.”
All that I want of Dramatic Art
Is to teach me how to win his heart.
No Normal Class have I but such
As teaches me to love him much.
In School Management , my only aim
Is to manage Billy to change my name.
H. B., ’13
‘ ' 5
> l sj
¬o §iou ?
Know you what it is to starve — to starve
For love and truth and inspiration that
Bursts out of friendship? Then it is you know
That aching void, that sense^of loneliness
And despair that shuts me in from what I fain
Would grasp and hold as mine; Not love such as
A man for woman bears, not even that
Which woman nourishes for man; but love
Of friend — a friend ’twixt whom and me there is
A brotherhood that links two souls as God
Would have them linked. Not love, alone, in which
The one is willing to give all or even
Die for him, the other; but rather live
For him and make him live as God would have
Him live; and let that other in his turn,
Bring out the best that has been given the one,
That they might live and love as He has taught.
Martha Lela Carey, ’13.
Stately halls of Riverbank,
Where the toasts of cheer we drank
To the friends anear, and those so far away,
Where the joyous life of youth
And the loyal heart of truth,
In the bonds of class and friendship held their sway.
Hear the merry voice of song,
With its echo sweet and long;
How it rings forevermore in memory’s vale;
How it sweeps all fields of joy,
Courage new, without alloy,
As the fresh’ning breath of springtime’s sunny gale.
Oh, the gracious ripening mien
Of a future yet unseen;
How it dawns upon our vision, half divine.
Oh, the promise of the hour,
Half revealed in latent power,
Till the echoing walls become a sacred shrine.
To the golden morn of life,
Ere we know the noonday strife,
Which with majesty and fortitude we’ll bear;
For the heritage divine,
Round the brow of youth will twine,
If the utmost crown of living we would wear.
Wm. G. Ward.
We’re sure she can’t mean
To cause so much worry of things foreseen.
Though she may be odd,
We don’t need to nod,
And talk very vaguely of “under the sod.”
And is there a number
That folks will not cumber
With some sort or other of boo-goo-boo lumber?
If we look for the best
In this year, like the rest,
Thirteen will surely answer the test.
Helen P. Ramsey, ’15.
lectures anti Eecttals
T HE Faculty Recitals were of a very high
standard this year and rank among the
finest ever given at Emerson. After
one of these delightful programmes, a young
lady was heard to remark, “I do not know
whether to be discouraged or encouraged by
what I have heard this evening, but I have quite
made up my mind on one point — and that is,
from this time on, I am going to work.”
Many students who have become really worth
while, date their first start from a faculty recital.
The following programmes were given:
“Herod,” President Southwick.
“Faust,” Mrs. Southwick.
“Henry IV,” Mr. Tripp.
“Electra,” Evalyn Thomas.
“The Servant in the House,” Mrs. Whitney.
Nella Kingsbury, T3.
Time — Two days after Commencement.
Place — A Pullman-coach.
Persons — Mr. Dickson and Mr. Putnam.
Oh, hello, Putnam! Didn’t know you were
going to be on this train. Mighty glad to see
you; don’t like traveling alone, you know. Sit
down with you? Sure! You didn’t expect me
to go off and sit by myself, did you? Oh, say,
wasn’t the Commencement simply great? You
never saw a better? Neither did I. Doesn’t it
make you feel faint to think that it is all over?
Honestly, Putnam, I’ve been thinking about
the lecturers we had last year at Emerson.
Weren’t they splendid though? I wish now I
had taken notes, for I can’t remember how they
came. You remember some of them? Mrs.
Southwick was the first? Say, doesn’t she make a
person want to do something worth while? I’d
give a lot to know as much as she does. What
did you say? Knows how to say things, too?
You' bet she does! Didn’t Homer B. Sprague
lecture next on one of Shakespeare’s women?
Oh, yes, that’s it, “Shakespeare’s Greatest
Character, A Woman.” How well you do re-
member. That man was certainly steeped in
Shakespeare. Seemed to almost come out of his
fingertips. Did you hear Leon H. Vincent. ? I
wouldn’t have missed his course of lectures for
anything. You heard only three of them?
Couldn’t go to the first one? Well, you missed
it. He lectured on “Washington Irving’s Early
Works.” No, the next one was “William Make-
peace Thackeray.” I never knew Thackeray
was such an interesting man before. You liked
the lecture on “Charles Dickens” best? Yes,
the comparison of those two men was very
finely portrayed. I don’t know, I believe I
liked “George Eliot” best, as I have always liked
her books so much. Yes, I agree with you that
“Kings of the Pulpit in Colonial Days” was
hard to beat. When it comes right down to the
point, it is pretty hard to make a choice. Let’s
see, who came next? Oh, I know — Mr. A. E.
Winship. He spoke so well on “Education.”
No, you are thinking of Dr. Frederick A. Stanley
who spoke on “The Awakening In China.” I
never did care about China until I heard him
lecture, but now I feel greatly interested in her
development. Didn’t it seem just like a story
when the Rev. Willard A. Scott gave “The
Romance of an Old Fashioned Education”?
What’s that? You remember what he said about
the minister, “Invisible on week days and in-
comprehensible on Sunday?” Guess he didn’t
know Mr. Stockdale or he wouldn’t have said
that. Couldn’t you just see the church, the
school, and the blacksmith shop? Dr. Alonzo A.
Butterfield? Yes, he was a former teacher at
Emerson College. I don’t think he had any
special subject but just gave a word of greeting
to the students. He told about some of the
great Emersonian principals. Wasn’t there a
woman who talked on “The Peace Movement”?
Oh, yes, Mrs. Joseph Duryea. She surely knew
what she was talking about. I sat spellbound
for fear I would lose a word. Peace ought to
come with such a woman working for it. Edward
Howard Griggs? Of course, I hadn’t forgotten
him. I might just as well forget one of the teach-
ers, for it seems just as if he belonged to us. He
lectured on “Giordano Bruno.” Yes, wasn’t
that interesting about the influence he probably
had on Shakespeare’s life? You never thought
about “Hamlet” being a direct outcome of the
friendship? Neither did I. I believe I’ll look
into that this vacation. No, I didn’t hear
William Lines Hubbard and I have kicked myself
ever since. What was his subject? “Modern
Grand Opera”? Illustrated by his giving the
“Secret of Suzanne” to music? That must have
been splendid. Everybody said it was the best
thing they had ever heard. And to think that
I missed it! You heard Mr. Kenney say that
he would walk a hundred miles and wheel his
wife and little boy in a wheelbarrow to hear him
again? Well, then, it was good. Mr. Foxton
Ferguson was the last, I believe. I have heard
him three times now, but the last one on “Street
Balladry” certainly “took the cake.” I could
listen to him all day. What, do you get off here?
Am sorry, for we had just begun our visit. So
long! Be good to yourself.
Docia Dodd, ’13.
[ 82 ]
Tuesday Morning. — March in Chapel. Juniors in white, preceded by standard
bearers, carrying an archway decorated with jonquils in form of class numerals.
March prettily executed. In and out and ’round about, singing all the while. Then,
on the stage, behind the curtain. Raised. Ah! Artistic grouping! Heads every-
where, no feet to be seen. And such cheers! And then the song! Dee — lightful!!
Wednesday Evening — This was the P. G. dance. The Juniors had a lovely time.
So did the four P. G.’s. The rest didn’t go — they never do.
Thursday Evening. — Junior Promenade. Oh! What a success! And the chap-
erons! How nice Mrs. Willard and Miss Sleight looked! The Copley Plaza is the
nicest place for a dance! And we all behaved so well! Everyone all “togged up,” too.
And the chairman! Wasn’t she a “brick”? Even though her gown was delayed in
Ohio, by the flood. And we didn’t even know it !
Friday Morning. — Oh! Those Co-eds. of ours! It took nerve to go across the
platform, with the lovely little wreaths decorating their high-brows, in that manner.
They are really quite musical, too. And all of them were there! That morning was
certainly inspiring! It might teach a few of us girls a lesson. Again! Three cheers
Friday Evening. — The Banquet at Riverbank Court for the Juniors. Isn’t Dr.
Ward just the best toastmaster ever? Wasn’t it almost as interesting as his classes,
though? And everybody had such a good time.
Written at &toerbanfe Court
The Poet, we fear,
Will not be here.
For this, we all will shed a tear.
Now, if she come,
This will be bum.
If she does not,
Why, on the spot,
I here have writ,
With lots of grit,
A line or two
To read to you.
You may not see
This is to be
A bit of Junior poetry;
But with your “specs”
You may detect,
By keeping time,
A sort of rhyme.
But we must have
Something to follow,
A mental concept,
Or ’twill sound hollow.
This should have been said at the beginning,
But not when at the seventh inning.
My subject matter as you may guess,,
Is just to give vent to my foolishness.
In this I feel I am not alone,
For in it all here are much at home.
So in reality you may see
This is some real class poetry.
Hi s|e + sje j)c %
If “Scribner” had scribbled,
Though ever so scant,
I should not have needed
So badly “Tarrant.”
Or if I had had a tiny “Beraud” (bureau)
For my fancy to ride on, an hour “Igo,”
I, with faithful “McDonough”
And fair-haired muse,
The dainty “Owen,”
Would see my imagination goin’,
Until we should have for certes
Written so “Smart” ’twould rival “Curtis.”
Or over “Stiles” to green meadows,
Where the lovely “Lyndon” flows.
Do not think me now “New-bold,”
For “Relyea” this tale must be told.
Or had the blue-eyed “Stevenson”
Up and sung an even-song,
With honoured president, “Mil Johnson,”
The success of this would have been bouncing.
There’s “Thornton” and “Harris” and “Bennett”
Whom for so long we have met daily;
Each an inspiration has proved,
To write these lines of undying love.
Nor do we forget the two little twins,
“Wolstad” and “Strickland,” who have ever been
Smiling faces and cheer to the heart.
“Tobin” and “Cochran” have played their part.
You all know our tiny “Sparrell,”
Who was never mistaken for a barrel.
I know this is written pretty quick,
But we had to have a rhyme for “Riddick,”
“Sullivan,” “Demming,” “Jones,” and “Burton,”
All are responsible for this sudden spurt in
Mental wanderings and brainy fits,
Which run to “Demmings” and “Jessie Smith.”
The songs which you sing reach toward the
Well through the years remain the best.
Although we had no “Mensinger,”
We probably these men aver
For the “Ward” of this old “Town,”
With us at this repast sat down.
Then we have a “Timmerman”
Who was timid since time began.
Then you have heard of Captain “Jones”
With “Hazel” eyes and sturdy bones.
That “Dietrick” is dainty, we don’t deny:
But if I don’t stop, you all will espy.
Now, St. Michael, bless this bit of lines,
Or we’ll forever more repine.
Having heeded the “Belle” for dinner,
The scales will tell we are not grown thinner.
Now me and my little poem must quit,
Having played our part at this banquet.
Add cream and wafers and salads and meat —
This is an affair ’twill be hard to beat.
And with the delight of this choice of dishes,
To dearest classmates, all best wishes.
When next we’re wanting some high-class sport,
We’ll all return to Riverbank Court.
Elsie Gordon, ’ 14 .
Saturday Morning . — We simply cannot get ahead of those Juniors. They are
interesting! And the way they know the Faculty! Oh, yes, the students, too! The
little take-off was splendidly managed and immensely enjoyed by everyone — even
those who suffered. We just couldn’t help it! The cheers from everybody for every-
body ended the week.
Here is the poem that was read by a member, to commemorate this eventful
week and to bring to our already agreeably overloaded notice, some of the virtues
of the “Class One Nine One Four.”
When you want a stunt done rightly,
When you want a grand march sightly,
When you want a dance so sprightly,
Come to the Class one nine one four.
We’re Black’s sonneteering Juniors,
We’re Puffer’s gestureering Juniors,
Hicks’s pantomimic Juniors,
This Class one nine one four.
Do you know, this dear old College
Offers us a store of knowledge.
This our critic must acknowledge,
When he knows our Class “one-four.”
Oh, Tripp tells us we are dummies
In Forensics. Such a bore!
But in every other subject
We are winners, “one” and “four.”
But here’s another story,
For Prexy says in Oratory
That we’re his pride and glory —
This Class one nine one four.
Dr. Ward, in language clever,
Is trying, with keen endeavor,
From our babyhood to sever
This Class one nine one four.
When Time, in grand demeanor,
Has ushered in one year more,
We will then be full-fledged Seniors —
The Class one nine one four.
The faculty, in their regime,
Say such a class they’ve seldom seen.
Who? Why, of course, they mean
Our Class one nine one four.
Arranged for Junior Week.
Editor-in-Chief, John James Roy
Assistant Editor, Julie Gore Owens
Business Manager, Albert F. Smith
Lillian Hartigan, ’12; Lillian Clark, ’13; Isabel Tobin, C4; Marion Vincent, To
The Emerson College Magazine is issued by the Magazine Association. Its
general purpose is to raise the standard of instruction in oratory throughout the
country by bringing it into line with the most approved pedagogical methods. It
also aims to elevate the literary character of the reading-platform, so that recitals
shall become recognized as a vital interpretation of our best English and American
authors. It publishes contributions from teachers, authors, graduates and friends of
the institution; criticisms of standard and current literature, especially that suitable
for platform work; and news of interest in and about the College. Seven numbers
are issued during each scholastic year.
Cmerson College Jfflagajtne
[ 85 ]
Dramatic Art is a high mountain to climb, a heaven-scaling crag. Each day the
classes have steadily climbed the rocky path, and a few have caught a faint glimpse
of the summit in the distance. The tumbles have been many and the cuts sharp,
but each time they have risen with a spirit more determined to win the goal.
N. K., T3.
3 Jfeto Jfonti ^collections: of 1913
dramatic Urt Class:
T^REAMILY I lay aside my book,
and gaze into the embers, glowing
red upon the grate; and Fancy with
swift wings soon bears me back to dear
old E. C. O., pausing just inside the great
folding doors where our most dreaded,
yet best loved, class was held. Ah, me,
Now, Fancy takes me quickly up the
narrow stairways and leaves me in a
little, well known room. Oh, Little
Dressing Room, what scenes could your
four bare walls reveal had they the power
of speech ! The awful scrambles that took
place. Methinks again I hear a wail of
disappointment from some frantic actress
as she gazes on her gown. Oh, Costume
Mistress! mind not the wrath descending
on thy head! Clatter! Bang! “What’s
that,” I ask myself, and then remember
that below, upon the stage, a desperate
Property Mistress is only bringing order
out of “conglomerated chaos.”
Again, I seem to hear a rush of feet, a
swish of skirts, and see a cross, wild,
worried face that disappears, then re-
appears, before me in frantic haste.
Yes! Yes! The Captain! The accents
of that voice I know too well — shrill,
sharp and penetrating, ordering, direct-
ing, controlling. An hour hence what
different modulations creep into that
same high-pitched voice. Turmoil, now,
doth reign supreme — wigs, powder boxes,
flying hair pins, a buckle lost, a shoe that
won’t go on, a satin garment much too
big for wearer, a lunch that’s gobbled on
the run. In haste I flee to scenes more
tranquil, where nervous youths and
maidens are transformed — some turned
[ 86 ]
to raving beauties; some, old men;
others, sports, both red of face and hair;
and some fine gentlemen of stylish mien.
There’s a last daub of powder,
A last touch of paint,
A wild scramble stageward,
Oh, so scared and so faint.
One last palpitating moment, the cur-
tain is ascending roofward with a squeak,
a jerk, and a jolt.
I hear the audience awaiting the
entrance, breathlessly, ready to burst
into sympathetic tears or hearty laughter;
or, horror of horrors! to sit cold and
unresponsive and critical.
The embers burn lower and lower in
the grate and as I watch them die out,
one by one, a panorama of the plays we
were in passes before me. “Pygmalion
and Galatea” appear and I see the beau-
tiful statue come to life at Pygmalion’s
call. Then the burning jealousy of fair
Cynisca, after whose features the statue
has been so lovingly wrought, and her
revenge in causing Pygmalion to become
blind; and at the last the reunion of
husband and wife by Galatea’s return
to her pedestal.
This picture flickers out and “Ingomar”
stands before me, bold, ferocious bar-
barian that he is, but his ferocity gradu-
ally slips away, and he is now the brave
and daring man whose heart is warmed
with the purity of a woman’s love. Here
my thoughts trail off—
With a start, I become conscious that
“Gringoire” is standing haughty, defiant
before the cunning and crafty King
Louis, awaiting his death sentence. My
heart warms again toward Gringoire as
it did when first I beheld him.
There is a dropping of embers and a
little tongue of flame leaps up, and I see
in its midst “David Garrick,” brilliant,
witty, polished, sweeping all before him
by the rush of his own personality. I fol-
low him from scene to scene and I am
just on the point of seeing him win his
beloved Ada, when the flame grows
“Nance Oldfield” now fairly leaps
before me. What a woman she is!
Laughter again shakes me as I see her
waving her red bedroom-slippered foot
in mid air, and then, as if resentful of my
mirth, she vanishes away with the smoke.
But no time is left to mourn the loss
of this fair vision, for another scene now
holds me spellbound, and I again realize
how clever a woman can be when “She
Stoops to Conquer.” So real are the
characters, I stretch out my hand to see
if they live. Ah, me! the spell is broken,
and only little shoots of flame remain.
Long I gaze, wondering what Fancy
will show me next ; but j ust as I am about
to turn away in despair, I see Sir Peter
in powdered wig and long red coat,
gazing in surprised horror at Lady
Teazle, pretty, proud, defiant. But
what need is there to describe “The
School for Scandal” as I saw it in the
Nor can I paint the memory of “In
the Shadow of the Glen,” for you, dear
Class of 1913, have probably lived it
o’er and o’er again.
“In Honor Bound,” the last of all our
triumphs seems but the vision of a
Here, the curtain descending, breaks
my revery — one end hangs for a full
minute caught in mid air, then jolting,
jerking, creaking, reaches its goal.
Applause ! Applause ! ! And then again
APPLAUSE!!! Until the hearts of
happy, agitated actors are aglow. Then
breathlessly, all await the verdict, “Well
done,” that meant far more than glowing
words of praise — but, when, with looks
both stern and, shall I say, sarcastic, we
heard, “That’s all,” our hearts went
down like lead. But, Class, you know we
well deserved it.
Let’s give three cheers for Mr. Tripp,
Three cheers before we’ve parted,
For though sometimes we made a slip,
He got the Class well started
Upon the path that leads to fame —
Though mighty “punk” our by-play,
We’ll travel onward just the same,
Until we reach the highway.
He’s fair and square, though hard to please;
And we all loved his classes.
And when he gave a word of praise
’Twas known by lads and lasses
That what they did had been worth while.
Just here, I cannot help but smile,
It needs no words but (dashes.)
But we deserved it all, I we’en,
For we, I fear, were very green.
Docia Dodd, T3.
[ 87 ]
“His clear and eloquent blood so distinctly
That one might almost say his body thought.”
\^7ITH this motto written across her
prow, the good ship Pantomime
set off on her voyage of Exploration and
Accomplishment last September. Her
Captain, a very able person, though she
seemed so small for so large a ship, was
no other than our Mrs. Hicks. The crew
was made up of the Juniors of Emerson
College. There were very few passengers,
and these changed as the ship drew into
port every Friday and Saturday.
The Pantomime sailed into many
different channels and seas, and touched
at various islands and seaport towns.
In the beginning of her trip she spent
some time cruising among the islands
known as “The Groups” and “The
As the ship sailed farther and farther
away, she grew more venturesome, and
before Christmas had crept down upon
her, she found herself anchored for a
couple of months’ stay in the scenic
harbors of “The Taming of the Shrew.”
Throughout the whole voyage Captain
Hicks weekly drilled her subordinates in
the art of bodily expression. “Kid-joy”
was a special drill which she never failed
to put them through. In order to be
prepared for enemies, the Captain saw
to it that the sailors were all able to
“Advance in Attack” and to “Retreat.”
Very often the entire crew would be
seen standing about the decks in puzzled
attitudes, as though vainly endeavoring
to solve some difficult problems. Flashes
of intelligence would rapidly cross their
faces as they thought they saw an answer
to their troubles. These would be fol-
lowed by looks of disappointment as they
discovered their line of thought was
wrong. But a smile of victory always
crowned their efforts, for invariably an
easy solution was discovered before they
thought very long.
Before it was time to commence her
homeward voyage, Pantomime became
very courageous, and dared to sail
straight for the Continents of “Original-
ity.” She worked her way in and out
among the icebergs and rocks of “Des-
peration” and “Disappointment,” and
floated bravely up to the wharf of
After anchoring there for some time,
she turned about and headed joyously
for home. Pantomime is now nearing the
“Straits of Examination.” Our good
wishes are with her, and we hope the
winds of “Success” will carry her safely
through them into the home harbor.
It is not to be questioned that the
Pantomime crew accomplished things,
for who could help it under the excellent
leadership of such a person as Captain
Jean E. West, ’14.
O NE would have thought at the be-
ginning of our Pantomime Course,
that the nature we imitated was most
curiously made. It took only a little
practice for us to learn that the fault
was in our lack of co-ordination.
Our first problem was to shake off the
shackles of dignity and grown-upishness
and turn our minds backward to child-
hood, when complete abandonment took
possession of the body. An observer
would have said, by our imitation of
“kid joy,” that most of us were many
miles down the line of life from the sta-
tion of youth.
That this had been accomplished, was
demonstrated in “The Revelry” scene
from “Twelfth Night,” and “The Coun-
try House” scene from “Taming of the
Shrew.” The drinkers in “Twelfth
Night” showed great imagination and
complete abandonment. It needed no
ghost from the grave to tell us that the
servants of Pet.ruchio displayed a marked
improvement in detail characterization.
The study of affection was clearly re-
vealed in the “Sheep Shearing” scene
from “Winter’s Tale,” while repulsion
and will was most marked in the “Play
Scene” of Hamlet.
We owe much to Pantomime for break-
ing open the shell and unveiling to each,
another self. B. McM., T4.
CJje ^ratiuate -piap
T HE mid-winter Post-Graduate Play
has proved to be one of the great-
est dramatic events of the school year.
In accordance with the custom of the last
few years, the play presented was one of
the best of old English comedies. Chap-
man’s “All Fools” certainly demands a
high order of work to reveal all its
brilliancy and subtlety. But, giving all
due credit to Mr. Tripp for his direction
and to the individual members of the
cast, the play as presented fulfilled
every demand, displaying finished artistic
wor k- D. E., ’13.
“m )t Stunts”
f\N the morning of November twenty-
first, nineteen hundred twelve, the
student-body and friends of Emerson
College of Oratory were delighted by the
lifting of the veil of the future by Evelyn
Rees Norcross, in the original fantasy,
“The Emersonian White House.”
The audience was allowed for a brief
space to gaze enthusiastically upon
Emersonian Women as perfected con-
gressional members and executive officers,
steering the “Ship of State” with ease
and poise, on a voyage of clear sailing;
the municipal oil having been poured
upon the waves of national problems by
woman’s hand, until calm had prevailed
in the political sea.
Words of sparkling wit, rippling humor,
and grave wisdom fell from the lips of
those Emerson-trained “Leaders of the
It was a most clever, worthy, and
entertaining “Stunt,” and we bestow a
laurel wreath upon the Senior Class of
HP HE student-body and friends of
Emerson College of Oratory, on
December seventh, nineteen hundred
twelve, were led by the Junior Class
back into the mythology of the Greeks.
They followed eagerly the wanderings
The eye was charmed by the grace of
motion, the ear was pleased by the
rhythm of the lines and the imagination
was stimulated by the old Greek ideas,
until all felt that they had been trans-
ported to those olden days.
It was a very artistic and pleasing
“Stunt.” We pay homage to the high
standard of work reached by the Class of
r T''HE student-body and friends of
Emerson College of Oratory, on
December nineteenth, nineteen hundred
twelve, were more than pleased with the
episodes which Marion F. Vincent de-
picted in her original sketch, “When
Pat Came Home.”
The characters moved and spoke with
reality, the songs and dances brightened
and cheered, while the spirit of the whole
carried the audience with enthusiasm
to the end.
The swing, the freedom, the clever
work, and the achievement reflects great
credit upon the Class of 1915.
H. B. C., ’12.
[ 89 ]
PHI MU GAMMA PLAY
Baccalaureate Sermon, Rev. Allen A. Stockdale
Miss Amelia Green
Miss Josephine Penick
Miss Helen Leavitt
Miss Mary Shambach
Physical Culture and Greek Dance
Miss MacDonald, Clara
Miss Green, G.
The Princess Truth
Mrs. S afford
The Giant Doubt
Miss Kingsbury .
Miss Elderdice .
, Miss Felker
Faith, the Blind Girl
Satyrs, Fairies, Bats, Dwarfs
Miss Green, G.
“The Adventure of Lady Ursula”
Miss Ferris .
Rev. Mr. Blimboe
Sir Robert Clifford
Earl of Hassenden
Lady Ursula Barrington
Sir George Sylvester
Class Day Exercises
Miss Amelia Green, Salutatorian
Mr. Frederick Dixon, Orator
Miss Docia Dodd, Poet
Miss Lillian Clark, Historian
• Miss Martha L. Carey, Ode
Miss Case .
Miss Co ad .
Miss Ball .
Miss Keck .
Miss Daly .
Miss Keck .
Miss Bent .
[ 91 ]
“Ahlas you let him keep no companie
nor allow him
Money to spend at fence and dancing-school.”
This is a charge brought against Gos-
tanzo in Chapman’s notable play of
A like charge can not be laid at the
door of Emerson College of Oratory.
Here every provision is made for both.
Fencing especially is held out as a choice
morsel at the top of the ladder; a final
test of the co-ordination of mind and
In this form of recreation you are first
required to provide yourself with a uni-
form of unique design, which brings in its
wake a certain sensation of luxury or
otherwise, according to atmospheric con-
ditions. Having donned this uniform,
you are at once introduced to and re-
quired to familiarize yourself with a
muscular co-ordination entirely novel
and somewhat troublesome. Your feet
are so placed as to form the boundary
line of two sides of an imaginary square,
knees well bent and equally, also con-
tinually. The left hand is held over the
head and in the right is grasped the
weapon of offence and defense — the foil —
always remembering to hold it in line
with the forearm and pointed approxi-
mately at your opponent’s eye.
Three-quarters of an hour spent under
these conditions sends you out with a
realization of muscular activity that the
study of physiology can only hint at.
A. B., ’12.
'Y'HE wild enthusiasm, which flows
through the veins of the average
athletic girl, over a basketball game,
does not approach animated interest in
our College. Our gymnasium work
stands for normal bodily development
and is adapted to the aesthetic side of our
work. Occasionally, however, the ball
is brought forth and short games are
indulged in, but no teams are formed.
We have some champion players in our
ranks, such as Miss Amelia Green and
Miss Brewer, who with a Mercurian
purchase on terra firma, can, from any
part of the field, throw a ball that wil
swish majestically through the air and
fall gracefully into the basket. The rest
of us spend most of our time collecting
ourselves from the floor and finding our
Doubtless, if basketball practice were
pursued more definitely, the Emerson
girl, despite her dramatic temperament,
could compete favorably with other
college girls in this splendid game; but
the advisability of such a movement is
argued, from various points of view.
L. L. C., ’13.
[ 93 ]
Helena Bradford Churchill, ’12
Edna Delphin Case, ’12
Alberta Frances Black, ’12
Amelia Myrl Green, ’13
Laura Elizabeth Bell, ’13
Docia Dodd, ’13
Mary Ellen Shambach
Mary Westaway Safford
Mildred Eleanor Johnson, ’14
Elsie Mae Gordon, ’14
Ethel Vienna Bailey, ’14
Albert Francis Smith, ’15
Marguerite Alberta Grunewald, ’15
Harriet May Brown, ’15
Board of Directors of the Endowment Association
Eben Charlton Black William G. Ward
Charles Winslow Kidder Harry Seymour Ross
Arthur Allen Stockdale
O N APRIL, 1908, the students of Emerson
College organized themselves into a Stu-
dents’ Association, the object being to
control all and only such things as pertain to
the student-body as a whole, and in this way
to make the true Emerson spirit more keenly
felt among the students, and to further the
interests of the College.
The Association is officered by a President, a
Vice-President, Secretary-Treasurer, and the
Students’ Council. This Council consists of
three officers of the Association as offic?r ex-
officio, and t welve other members, three from each
class. Regular monthly meetings are held by the
Council and here plans are discussed and
recommended that help the student-body, as a
whole, and also the Alma Mater. Though quiet-
ly, the Council has been working effectively this
The Emerson College Magazine, which is
published once a month throughout the year,
is under the control of the Association which
has also had charge of the College Year Book,
The Emersonian, during the last three years.
It is really the unifying element of all the stu-
dents of the College.
[ 94 ]
looting OTomen’s Christian Association
Officers and Cabinet
J. M. Matheson
F. C. Stiles
P. A. Parsley
E. D. Case
N. F. Walter
L. L. Clark
M. E. Shamback
I. M. Macgregor
E. N. Smart
J. D. Dodd
M. A. Cody
[ 95 ]
®fje ©met i)our at Cmerfion
“ Come ye apart and rest awhile”
Speakers and Subjects
“Prison Life in Philadelphia”
Membership Thermometer — 20
“The Content of the Ideal”
“Civic Service Work”
Miss M. J. Corbett
“Getting Acquainted with Jesus”
Membership Thermometer — 40
Mrs. E. C. Black
Miss M. Brown
“Modern Missionary Work”
Miss K. B. George
“Seeking for Truth”
Membership Thermometer — 80
Mrs. A. A. Stockdale
“The Christmas Message”
Membership Thermometer — 85
Dr. A. A. Stockdale
“Taking a New Aim”
Mrs. J. E. Southwick
“The Value of an Organization”
Miss S. Matthews
“The Y. W. C. A. from a Larger Viewpoint
Membership Thermometer — 90
Rev. Mr. Scott
“A Day at a Time”
Miss K. E. Hall
“Girls in Spain”
Membership Thermometer — 100
Miss G. McQuesten
Mrs. M. G. Hicks
Mrs. J. Y. Duryea
Rev. S. C. Lang
“The Joy of Jesus”
Reception for Students
Y. W. C. A. Night at Emerson
Maud Relyea .
President Laura Curtis . Vice-President
Secretary Mary Cody . Treasurer
Jean MacLatchy Isabel Macgregor
Ethelwyn Cunningham Mary Cody
Ida Leslie Bertha Gorman
Laura Curtis Maud Relyea
Agnes Knox Black Elsie Riddell Mrs. Harry Seymour Ross
)t Catta&tan Club 1912=1913
In September we were glad to welcome five
new members, which swelled our numbers to
Our little Club has stood shoulder to shoulder,
aimed at something and accomplished it.
For the first time, our Club has been identified
with a local organization, becoming affiliated
with the “Woman’s Auxiliary of the Boston
Canadian Club,” and has in this way enjoyed
various social functions.
In February the “Emerson members” gave a
Program at the Club Rooms to the Woman’s
Auxiliary and their men friends, which was
During the year several of our girls have given
teas, and these afforded means of a more in-
At various times we have been entertained
by the Harvard Canadian Club, and we returned
this hospitality by being “At Home” to our
friends at the Copley Plaza on March 15. Mrs.
Harry Ross and Mrs. Charlton Black were the
hostesses on this occasion.
Some new pins have been secured in Club
colors, red and gold, and bearing the letters,
E. C. C.
We have plans in mind, to prove our interest
is not only Canadian but Emersonian, which we
hope to bring to fruition ere the year closes.
As ten of the Club members are Seniors and
Post-graduates, to carry on the work begun
there must needs be a strong reinforcement
next fall. It will be the aim of each graduate
to send a substitute to fill her little part played
in the Emersonian field.
I. L. M.
Founded in 1901
New York Froebel Normal
Chicago Kindergarten College
Emerson College of Oratory
Honor any Members
Henry Lawrence South wick
Walter Bradley Tripp
Charles Winslow Kidder
Harriet C. Sleight
Mrs. Charles W. Kidder
William G. Ward
Mrs. William G. Ward
Mrs. Jessie Eldridge Southwick
Rhea E. Ashley
Abbie M. Fowler
Chapter House, 39 St. Stephen Street, Boston, Mass.
[ 101 ]
Colors — Green and White
liappa ©atnina Cfji
Charter granted 1902
Flower — Lily-of-the-Valley
Mrs. William Howland Kenny Miss Lilia Estelle Smith
Mrs. Harry Seymour Ross Mrs. Edwin Morse Whitney
Alice Faulkner Elizabeth Beattie
K APPA GAMMA CHI was founded
in 1892. At the time of its organi-
zation there were several Chapters in
the large colleges, but when sororities
were abolished, they were discontinued.
At present, the only other Chapter in
existence is in Ohio Wesleyan. Because
of the difference in character of the two
remaining Chapters, they do not enter-
tain an intersorority relationship.
The Gamma Chapter has a strong and
enthusiastic alumnae, which expects and
demands the highest and best standard
for its active members. We feel this
responsibility has been potent in making
the society count as a valuable asset
to the school.
At Emerson, the Kappas have en-
deavored to be an active force for the
welfare of every member, thus creating
a unit of strength in the upbuilding of our
[ 102 ]
Founded October 17, 1898, at Hollins, Va.
Colors — Turquoise Blue and Black Flowers — Pink Rosebuds and Forget-Me-Nots Jewel — Pearl
Hollins Institute, Hollins, Va.
Brenan College, Gainesville, Ga.
Miss Graham’s School, New York, N. Y.
Veltin School, New York, N. Y.
Newcomb College, New Orleans, La.
New England Conservatory, Boston, Mass.
Judson College, Marion, Ala.
Emerson College of Oratory, Boston, Mass.
Centenary College, Cleveland, Tenn.
Shorter College, Rome, Ga.
Woman’s College, Montgomery, Ala.
Alpha — Birmingham, Ala.
Beta— Oceola, Fla.
Gamma — New York City
Delta — Hattiesburg, Miss.
Epsilon — Valdosta, Ga.
Zeta — Shreveport, La.
Eta — Central Alabama
Theta — Fort Worth, Texas •
Iota — Gainesville, Ga.
Kappa — Atlanta, Ga.
Lambda — New Orleans, La.
Marguerite R. Albertson Lillian R. Hartigan
Disa Brackett Helen Brewer Leila Dorothy Harris Ruth M. West
Emily F. Brown
Miss H. C. Sleight
Mrs. F. L. Whitney
Miss Jessie Arguelle
Sue W. Reddick
Members — Honorary
Mrs. E. C. Black
Mr. W. B. Tripp
Mrs. Maude G. Kent
Miss Edith Wright
Doris C. Sparrell
Keturah G. Stokes
Mrs. M. G. Hicks
Pres. H. L. Southwick
Mrs. Oscar Thorpe
Mr. Edward Hicks
E. Carolyn Jones Theodosia Peak
Marion F. Vincent
Chapter House, 177 St. Botolph Street
I N 1907, the local Alpha Tau Lambda joined a
national sorority and Iota Chapter of the
Phi Mu Gamma became established. It
has grown stronger and more firmly established
At the annual conclave held at Old Point Com-
fort, Virginia, Miss Lillian Hartigan was elected
a member of the Grand Council. Miss Maud
Fiske was appointed one of the editors of the
sorority magazine, The Argaliad.
Each Chapter of the Phi Mu Gamma is re-
quired to do some philanthropic work. Iota
maintains a Post Graduate Scholarship Fund,
and for this cause a play is given annually.
The weekly meetings and social functions
make the path of duty a little easier to tread,
but the true aim of every Phi Mu Gamma is to
live up to her sorority’s ideals and thus make the
Chapter a moral and intellectual force in our
[ 104 ]
-La France Rose
Heta $1)1 €ta
Founded in 1892
Emerson College of Oratory, Boston
Cumnock School of Oratory, Chicago
Bertel Glidden Willard Ella G. Stockdale
Henry Lawrence Southwick Mary Elizabeth Gatchell
Walter Bradley Tripp Rev. Allen A. Stockdale Elizabeth M. Barnes
Gertrude T. McQuesten
Colors — Rose and White
Edward Phillip Hicks
Maud Gatchell Hicks
Elvie Burnett Willard
Winifred H. Bent
L. Elizabeth Bell
Elsie R. Riddell
Florence S. Hinckley
Anna M. Keck
Mary B. Persinger
Marjorie M. Westcott
0. Olga Newton
Rose J. Willis
M. Florence Bean Virginia Beraud Marion Grant Marion John
Mary Louise Carter Louise West Theresa Z. Cogswell
Jean E. West Laura B. Curtis Jennie E. Windsor
Hazel G. Call C. Jean MacDonald
Chapter House, Hemenway Chambers
Heta $ljt €ta
O N March nineteenth of the year nineteen
hundred and eight, the Phi Eta Sigma
Sorority of Emerson affiliated with Zeta
Phi Eta of Cumnock School of Oratory in Evan-
ston, 111. They were made the Alpha Chapter
of that Sorority.
Just before the Phi Eta Sigma became the
Zeta Phi Eta, the former established a custom
which they left as a heritage to their new sister-
hood. Every year this custom has been care-
fully observed, and the result is a reference
library of very worthy note.
The books presented to the College have
been chosen very carefully, and among others
is a very well known set of Shakespeare. Refer-
ence books have been made a special study.
As the number of books increased, it became
necessary to have a separate case for them, anti
in nineteen hundred and twelve the out-going
girls of Zeta Phi Eta left a lovely mahogany book
case as a token of their love for their Alma Mater.
Zeta Phi Eta is an earnest co-worker with all
Emersonians, and she hopes and strives for their
success in every line.
[ 106 ]
Founded at Emerson College of Oratory, 1902
Chapter Roll .
Emerson College of Oratory, Boston, Mass.
University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis.
University of Nebraska, Lincoln, Neb.
Leland Stanford University, Berkeley, Cal.
University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, Minn.
Stephen C. Lang
Robert Howes Burnham
Walter Bradley Tripp
William G. Ward
Robert Howes Burnham
Frederick R. Dixon
Stephen C. Lang
Albert Russell Lovejoy
Wayne Wooster Putnam
John James Roy
Henry Lawrence Southwick
Walter Bradley Tripp
William G. Ward
E. Charlton Black, A. M., LL. D. Charles T. Grilley
Richard Burton, Ph. D. Edwin Whitney
Allen Arthur Stockdale
[ 108 ]
Junior Hallowe’en Dance
Senior Class Dance
Y. W. C. A. Reception
Bungalow Dance (Seniors)
Junior Auction Sale
Riverbank Court Dance
Junior Prom, Copley Plaza
Freshman Dance, Richards Hall
Inter-Sorority Dance, Whitney Hall
Officers of the Alumni Association
Charles Winslow Kidder President
Mary L. Sherman Vice-President
Mrs. Priscilla C. Puffer Secretary-Treasurer
Phineas P. Field, ’83
Jessie E. Southwick, ’85
Minnie Tapley Miller, ’87
Lilia E. Smith, ’89
Walter B. Tripp, ’89
Maud Gatchell Hicks, ’93
Edith Whitmore, ’93
Charles W. Paul, ’97
Theresa Kidder ,’98
Stella Ripley MacKenzie, ’02
Helena Richardson, ’03
Edwin Morse Whitney, ’02
Anna E. Marmein, ’06
Emerson College Club of Hartford
Emerson College Club of Minneapolis
Emerson College Club of Chicago
Emerson College Club of New York
Emerson College Club of Boston
Emerson College Club of Rhode Island
Emerson College Club of Syracuse, N. Y.
Emerson College Club of Los Angeles
Wo t fce gUumttt
W E ALWAYS have news of our Alumni
in the Magazine, so it is almost un-
necessary to say much about them here;
though we can all agree that any news con-
cerning those who represent us in the world is
welcomed with pleasure.
We all have friends among the Alumni, else
how should we be here? And it is indeed an
inspiration to us, who hope some day to be
Alumni, to hear of the work done by the differ-
It shows that the spirit of Emerson does not
end with the graduation of the student, but
continues in his life afterwards and is kept alive
by association with the nearest group of Emer-
sonians that have banded together for that
We hear of the different groups, also, through
the Endowment Association. For, you know,
we are all working toward one end in that move-
ment, and it does not remain in the active Col-
lege members alone, but in those who would be
thereby benefited, to work to their best ability
for the accomplishment of so worthy a purpose.
There are those of the Alumni who, though
they are not affiliated with any one organiza-
tion of them, are plodding their ways through
the world just the same and making good, too.
We like to hear of them sometimes, for Emerson
is always back of us and interested in us wherever
we are or whoever we may be.
And then at the Reunions of Commence-
ment, what a time there is. They come back
from all over the country and the greetings of
the old friends are indeed a revelation of the
feelings that will always exist between every-
one, even though we meet but seldom, because
we have been through Emerson together.
If these jokes don’t
Appeal to you,
Why didn’t you
Write us up a few?
Juniors: Deer (dear) slayers.
Seniors: The Pioneers.
Post Grads: The Last of the Mohicans.
Alumni : The Prairie.
Apropos of Romeo in love with Love :
“He was an Englishman and he was
much in love. He vowed, ‘I cawn’t
sleep, cawn’t eat, cawn’t do anything,
Domn it!’ ” Please drawl !
Her pa heard her give the P. G. yell,
For joy he could not speak.
He murmured, “Mother, listen
To our darling talking Greek.”
She was a constant matinee goer and
that is why she confused the shows, but
she said she had seen “The Garden of
Expression — Unnecessary to evolution.
Magazine — Prompt and interesting.
Elocution — Newly coined word.
Rehearsals — Many and lengthy.
Sororities — Universal brotherhood.
Omar Khayyam — Fully comprehended.
Noise — A graceful stage fall.
Cupid — A foreign body.
O — A tongue vowel.
Lessons — First thoughts.
Laziness — An unknown quantity.
Engagements — Warranted not to break.
Gesture — A thing of beauty.
Exams — A joy forever.
DAY AFTER PROM
Miss Flirtatious — We were in the
balcony all alone, and he told me how
they won that game — a regular dramatic
Sourgrapes — Did he hold his audi-
Whom did Hilda and Leila Harris?
Graduate — When shall we ever be-
come acquainted with Rossetti?
Freshman — Can’t someone give an
afternoon tea so all the girls can meet
She called up Hayden’s and asked,
“Why haven’t our costumes arrived?”
Haydens — What were they for, ‘The
School for Scandal’?
Girl (indignantly) — No, indeed, for
the Emerson College of Oratory!
“Why are you putting on that kind of
“I want to dye young.”
A Recital Class : A lesson in abandon —
Dodd and Durgin, pupils.
Instruction given by teacher to stand
before the class, hand in hand, and shout
something very shocking.
Response — What the devil do we
If Cicero had nerve, Caesar had Gaul.
She was making up for the play but
she looked so dejected over it that some-
one observed, “What’s the matter?
What are you in?”
“Why, I am in ‘The Shadow of the
Lives of editors remind us
That their lives are not sublime;
And they have to work like thunder
To get the book out in time.
[ 112 ]
Had to Work on an Essay
Had to practice
Had to plaY for a rehearsal
Had To go shopping
Had a Headache
Had to cram for an Exam
Had the Year Book to do
Had no alarm Clock
Had Lines to learn
Had to go to the Costumers Had A date with (?)
Had to get some lUnch Had to “Supe” with Mantell
Had a maTinee date Had callerS
Had to eat my brEakfast
Anyone interested in Ancient History
should read some of the notices on the
Helen (in tears [?]) — Mr. Kenny hurt
my feelings awfully today.
Girls — How?
Helen — He told me to hum an ‘n’
and when I did, he said it sounded like
Ara’s Bible Study — “And the churches
were filled with cannibals” (candles).
ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS
She — No we don’t guarantee anything.
Have you tried shaving?
Thinker — We know of no remedy for
your ability to think while on your feet.
If you do not apologize for it, it will
probably not be noticed.
Diligence — The first step in pursuing
your studies diligently is to get behind
A RECIPE FOR KISSES
To one piece of dark piazza add a little
moonlight; take for granted two people;
press in two strong ones, a small, soft
hand; sift lightly two ounces of attraction
and one of romance; add a large measure
of jollity; stir in a floating ruffle and one
or two whispers; dissolve one-half dozen
glances in a well of silence; a small
quantity of hesitation; one ounce of
resistance; place kisses on a flushed
cheek and set aside to cool. It will
succeed in any climate if directions are
Had to See him
JUST A DITTY
A classic play
(So runs my lay),
The lead, a fair-haired girl.
Her role, a man,
All spick and span,
In coal-black wig, a-curl.
A long applause
And glad ha-has —
In dramatics she had won.
The curtain down,
She smiles all roun’,
But the real play’d just begun.
She doffed the wig,
Changed her rig,
Went home and wrote her mother.
Some weeks went by ;
With tear in eye,
The poor girl wrote another.
With main and might,
Had grown to fearful numbers.
The awful gain
Drove her neaj insane,
And kept her from her slumbers.
At last a friend
Was induced to lend
A helping hand in the cause.
A druggist’s prescription,
A comb of fine description,
And search without a pause.
When conquered at last,
To another cast,
This lady, Tripp did assign.
So she brought her wig home,
Used larkspur and comb;
But before not after this time.
Does Albert Lovejoy?
What did Marion Grant?
[ 113 ]
The preparation for the Van Dyke
Recital program was a failure and in
chagrin, Disa, the captain, announced,
“No one else has anything ready, but I
can give you a ‘Handful of Clay.’ ”
They were working on their stage plot,
when one sighed, “Now everything has
been properly located but where shall I
put the soft music?”
“Somewhere near the slow curtain,
A bunch of E. C. 0. girls occupied
second balcony, first row center, Shubert
Theatre. One girl, having a cramp in her
toe, removed her shoe. It was hastily
confiscated by one of the party and sent
along the line. Later, a search for the
shoe resulted in its discovery among the
wraps of a stranger, who embarrassingly
asked, “Why, how did it get here?” The
owner explained, “You see, it’s a Walk-
She was seldom prepared for Recitals,
but her last effort suggested good intent.
It was entitled “Work.”
“Helen, how much did your ‘Moral
H.— “A dollar sixty.”
“Oh, it doesn’t cost that in Halifax.”
She was rehearsing her business for
blind Pygmalion and stood before her
mirror with her eyes tightly closed.
Thus her room mate found her and asked,
“What are you doing, anyway?” Sur-
prised and realizing her foolish act, she
stammered out, “Why, — trying to see
how I look with my eyes shut.”
A notice on the Bulletin Board read
“Wanted, by a Saturday student, the
return of the fountain pen borrowed by
a ‘regular’ whose name and face I can’t
Beneath it was found written later:
“I borrowed your pen, but how am I td
know who you are?”
When an awful crash preceded one
of the “Shrew” scenes, Mr. Tripp was
heard to remark, “It takes a lot of noise
to tame that Shrew.”
They were rehearsing the tomb scene
in “Romeo and Juliet” and every kiss
was punctuated with a giggle. In des-
peration, he begged, “Don’t mind me.
Try to think it’s Romeo.”
She — “O h, I don’t care who it is.”
A FEW ON THE FACULTY
Dean Ross was lecturing on Keats and
Shelley. But in a moment of confusion,
he found himself expatiating on Sheats
Mr. Kidder in Acoustics: — “Now, take
for example, a homely physical illustra-
tion. Here’s Miss C right on the
front row — .”
Dr. Ward in self defense :— “Don’t you
ever believe anything bad about me, for
confound it, there are 2,000 W. G. Wards
in this world, so give me that many
The height of Mr. Tripp’s disgust: —
“ ‘Pooh, pooh’ three times and two
THREE GIRLS TALKING
Miss B. — “Oh, girls! George brought
me the loveliest gas lamp. Wasn’t that
sweet of him?”
Miss C.— “I gas so!”
Miss L. — “Shady thing, but it casts
some light on the subject.”
Trying to make out the hieroglyphics
commonly known as stage directions,
“Well! What does L. E. R. mean?”
Earnest Student — “Why — er — the
left end of the right door, of course!”
THE MORNING OF EXAM
One Girl — “Can you remember any-
thing about this?”
The Other (in desperation) — “Nope,
my memory’s a thing of the past.”
THREE GIRLS CONVERSING
One — “Don’t be so dic-dic-dicta-
Another — “Why so much emphasis
on the ‘die’?”
The Other — “You know, she’s inter-
ested in Richard.” .
[ 115 ]
:: .f; • * ■
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. .i-.- ...
« . . ri: : :■ : ■.
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EMERSON GOL1EGE OF ORATORY
HENRY LAWRENCE SOUTHWICK, President
EMERSON COLLEGE OF ORATORY, of Boston, is chartered by
£ the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, and has a larger number of teachers
and pupils than any similar institution in the United States. It teaches
oratory as an art resting upon absolute laws of nature, explained and il-
lustrated by exact rules of science, and gives a thorough training in all the principles
upon which this art is based.
The complete course qualifies students to become professors and teachers of
elocution and oratory in institutions of learning, as well as to become public
readers. Seventy graduates were placed last year in colleges, normal and high
schools, academies and seminaries, and more than fifty were working under various
entertainment and platform bureaus.
A complete system of Physical Training and Voice Culture, a new method of
Analysis, Natural Rendering, Gesture, and the principles of the new Philosophy of
Expression are thoroughly taught.
THE LARGEST SCHOOL OF ORATORY IN AMERICA
SUMMER AND EVENING SESSIONS
First Semester opens in September Second Semester opens in January
THOROUGH COURSES IN
English Literature, Pedagogy, Rhetoric, Dramatic Art, Anatomy,
Physiology, and Physical Culture, Lectures, Readings and Recitals.
. . . . Scientific and Practical Work in every Department . . . .
INSTRUCTORS AND LECTURERS
Henry L. Southwick, President
Harry S. Ross, Dean
William G. Ward, A. M.
Eben Charlton Black, A. M., LL. D.
Edward Howard Griggs, A. M.
Leon H. Vincent
Walter B. Tripp
Charles W. Kidder
Silas A. Alden, M. D.
William H. Kenny
Lilia E. Smith
Foss Lamprell Whitney
Maude Gatchell Hicks
Agnes Knox Black
A. Foxton Ferguson
Elvie Burnett Willard
Robert H. Burnham
Priscilla A. Puffer
Jessie E. Southwick
Elsie R. Riddle
Charles Follen Adams
FOR CATALOGUE AND FURTHER INFORMATION ADDRESS
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nAKKI iNEilLVJULJK KUoiN, Uean huntington avenue
The Fisk Teachers’ Agencies
Telephone 1788-W 30 Years’ Experience
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for AGENCY MANUAL, Free
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MANUFACTURERS and DEALERS IN
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73 TREMONT STREET (Room 442)
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Telephone Oxford 1126-1
College, Academic and
High School Work a Specialty
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We have Unequalled
Facilities for Placing
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Invigorating exercises call for
footwear that gives freedom
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6 BEACON STREET, BOSTON
Long Distance Telephone
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47 Temple Place 15 West Street
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Amateur Plays, Dances and Receptions
MRS. DUFF - 224 Tremont Street
Rooms 5, 6, 7
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Theatrical Wig Makers street
226 Tremont Street, Boston, Mass.
Opposite Majestic Theatre
A full line of Theatrical Wigs, Beards, Grease
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Wigs, Beards and Masks to Rent. Tel. 2382-1 Oxford
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Singleness of purpose characterizes
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We propose to serve intelligently
and actively the artistic people of
Boston, depending on that science
to bring rewards accordingly.
VISITORS TO OUR STUDIO
in your DESIGNS and HALFTONES
insure you of many Lyceum engagements
We make a specialty of HALFTONES and
FINE ETCHINGS for SCHOOL and
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where every convenience in equipment and arrangement has
been carefully planned that we may give unexcelled service
ARTISTS and ENGRAVERS
Graphic Arts Building
IN ALL SHAPES AND SIZES
Illustration shows latest design in Colonial
Pump, with Louis Cuban heels and cut
Ten per cent discount for cash to all
faculty and students
160 TREMONT STREET
M. T. BIRD & CO.
Fine Stationery and Engraving House
5 and 7 West Street
Stamped with Official Fraternity Dies
. . . and College Seals . . .
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Established 1864 Tel. Haymarket 601 ■ ( ,
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HALL TO HIRE
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CHARLES WESLEY EMERSON
Founder of Emerson College of Oratory, Boston
EVOLUTION OF EXPRESSION
Complete revised introduction and explanatory notes
for the aid of the teacher and student. Published
in four volumes. Price 50 cents each; post, 5 cents.
Unique and Original System of Psycho-Physical
Culture without the use of apparatus. Price $1.50;
post, 15 cents per copy.
PHILOSOPHY OF GESTURE
Gesture as a universal law and as an expression of
mind through muscle. Aesthetic laws of bodily ex-
pression explained with illustrations from Classic
Art. Price SL.50; post, 15 cents per copy.
A Text Book for teachers and students presenting
the Emerson System of Voice Culture. Exercises
for securing freedom and proper direction of tone.
Price $1.50; post, 15 cents per copy.
THE PERFECTIVE LAWS OF ART
Arranged for the purpose of assisting those who have
studied and in a degree mastered the Evolution of
Expression. Published in four volumes. Price 50
cents each; post, 5 cents.
A NEW BOOK OF SIX LECTURES
Given by Charles Wesley Emerson, before students
of Emerson College of Oratory. Price, including box,
$2.00; post, 10 cents.
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THE FREE privileges of lectures, concerts, and recitals,
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